


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 























































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]emima 












DOLLS 

AN ANTHOLOGY 


Compiled by 

JULIA A. ROBINSON 

\\ 



EMMA BROCK 


JUNIOR PRESS BOOKS 

ALBERfXWHITMAN 
&" 4co 

CHICAGO 

1938 



Copyright, 1938, by 

Albert Whitman 6? Co., Chicago, Ill., U.S.A. 



To 

MY SISTER 

Who shared with me the pleasures and responsibilities 
of our childhood dolls 

and whose sympathy is broad enough to embrace 
the doll activities of mature years . 


Printed in the U.S.A. 

©Cl A 119348 


JUL 1 3 !938 




ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Copyright material in this book is used by permission of and special arrangement 
with: 

The American Boy for certain poems formerly published in the Youth’s Com¬ 
panion: At Bedtime and When the Guests Are Gone by Harriet Sutherland; 
Choosing, The Lament of the Poppy Doll and Sing a Song of Dollies all by Rebecca 
Deming Moore; The Christmas Doll by Arthur Guiterman; The Dearest Dolls by 
Hannah G. Fernald, A Ditty of Dolls and In the Doll Shop by Rose Mills Powers; 
A Devoted Mother and Doll’s Slumber Song by Ethelwyn Wetherald; The Dolls 
by Miriam S. Clark; The Dolls’ Dinner by Ellen Manly; Discipline by M. Von 
Seydewitz; Dolly’s Slumber Song by Annie Willis McCullough; The Favorite Doll 
by J. R. Gray; The Japanese Doll by Laura Spencer Porter; The Kidnaper by Mary 
Dill; A Little Girl’s Dolls by L. I. Bartlett; A Mother’s Dilemma by Anne Madison; 
On the Shelf by M. J.; Petunia Dolls by Eva Macfarlane; The Rubber Doll by 
Caroline Ticknor; The Wooden Doll by Eugenie Wireman; The Wrong Doctor 
by Emma S. Francis; and The Dolls’ Christmas Tree . 

D. Appleton-Century Company for the following list of poems formerly appear¬ 
ing in St. Nicholas: Belinda Blond and Jemima Brown by Laura E. Richards; 
Best Loved Of All and The Money Jug by Katherine Pyle; Comprenez-vous by 
Jennie Betts Hartswick; Conscientious Correggio Car others by Malcolm Douglas; 
The Dead Doll and Mary Jane by Margaret Vandegrift; The Doll’s Circus by 
W. P. Hooper; The Doll’s Wedding by Lucy Larcom; Dolly’s Lullaby by Helen 
Gray Cone; Dressing Mary Ann by M. M. Dodge; Envy and Perhaps They Are 
by Arthur Guiterman; Feast of the Dolls by Nora Archibald Smith; Fellow Trav¬ 
ellers by Pauline Frances Camp; Jemima by Harriet Clark McLear; A Little Seam¬ 
stress by Mary E. Wilkins; Mehitable Ann by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay; A Mis¬ 
understanding by Eunice Ward; My Dolly by Mary Bradley; A Nightmare by 
Anna May Cooper; Only a Doll by Sarah O. Jewett; Polly and Her Dollies by 
W. O. Kobbe; The Rag Doll by Junius L. Cravens; Rose Ma Belle by Margaret 
Belle Houston; Rebecca by Eleanor Piatt; The Sewing Dolly by Amelia De Wolf- 
fers; Sisters by Stella George Stern; Taking Dolly’s Photograph by Sidney Dayre; 
Tea-Set Blue by Rose Mills Powers; Twin’s Complaint by Ellen Manly; Unfor¬ 
tunate Family by Felix Leigh; Wee\ Days in Dolly’s House by John Bennett. 

D. Appleton-Century Company for Cuddle Down, Dolly by Kate Douglas 
Wiggin, Dolly Takes Tea and Owner Away by Bessie Jenkins from the St. Nicholas 
Books of Verse. 

[5] 


E. P. Dutton and Company for Penny Paroo by Alicia Aspinwall from Short 
Poems For Short People and Doll's Song by Lewis Carroll from his Collected Verse. 

Harcourt, Brace and Company for The Dolly House by Margaret Widdemer 
from her Little Girl and Boy Land. 

Little, Brown and Company for Happy Jac\ by Ralph Bergengren from his 
Jane, Joseph and John. 

Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Company for A Doll's Cradle Song and A Nursery 
Rhyme from Smith’s Boo\ of Lullabies. 

The Macmillan Company for A Valentine for Old Dolls by Rachel Field from 
her Pointed People and All The Bells Are Ringing by Christina G. Rossetti from 
her Sing-Song. 

Noble and Noble, Publishers, for A Mortifying Mistake by Anna M. Pratt and 
My Doll and The Torn Doll from Poems My Children Love Best of All . 

F. A. Owen Publishing Company for A Christmas Dilemma from the Normal 
Instructor, December, 1902. 

The Penn Publishing Company for Christening Dolly by E. C. and L. J. Rook 
from Shoemaker’s Holiday Entertainments. Doll Rosy's Bath and The Little 
Schoolma’am from Little People's Speaker; and The Doll's Funeral by Will Allen 
Dromgoole from Shoemaker’s Best Selections Number 27. 

Theodore Presser Company for A Little Housewife by A. C. D. Riley from 
Songs of The Child World by Riley and Gaynor, published and copyrighted in 
1897 by The John Church Company. 

Marjorie Barrows for The Long Ago Doll reprinted from Child Life. 

Charles Scribner’s Sons for The Naughty Doll by Eugene Field from his 
Trumpet and Drum. 

Clayton F. Summy Company for My Cotton Dolly from My Cotton Dolly and 
Other Poems. 

Frederick Warne & Company for Mammas and Babies by Kate Greenaway 
from her Marigold Garden. 

The John C. Winston Company for The Doll Baby Show by George Cooper 
from The Children's Boo\ of Poetry. 

The Wise Book Company for Bing-O, The Gingerbread Man and Golliwumpus 
by Alice Higgins from her Runaway Rhymes. 

The compiler also wishes to thank librarians and friends for contributions of 
poems and kindly advice and encouragement. 


[ 6 ] 


CONTENTS 


IN THE LONG AGO Page 

A Valentine for Old Dolls —Rachel Field . I3 

The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll —Jane Taylor . 13 

Jemima —Harriet Clark McLear . ^ 

The Long Ago Doll —Marjorie Barrows . 18 

The Fairing —Nancy Sproat . jg 

Lucy and Dicky —Unknown . jg 

My Doll —Unknown . 20 

The New Doll —Unknown . 20 

Dolly Going to Sleep —Unknown . 21 

Saturday Night —Unknown . 21 

The Torn Doll —Unknown . 22 

A Nursery Rhyme —Unknown . 22 

NURSERY RHYMES 

All the Bells Are Ringing— Christina G. Rossetti . 24 

At Bedtime —Harriet Sutherland . 24 

The Favorite Doll— J. R. Grey . 25 

The Kidnaper —Mary Dill . 25 

The Owner Away —Unknown . 26 

Polly and Her Dollies— M. O. Kohbe . . 26 

Sing a Song of Dollies —Rebecca Deming Moore . 26 

LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER AND MOTHER 

Christening Dolly— E. C. and L. /. Rook . 28 

A Christmas Dilemma —Nellie M. Sinnell . 29 

A Devoted Mother —Ethelwyn W ether aid . 30 

Discipline— M. Von Seydewitz ... 31 

The Doll-Baby Show —George Cooper . 32 

The Dolls —Miriam S. Clark . 33 

The Dolls’ Dinner —Ellen Manly . 33 

The Doll’s Funeral —Will Allen Dromgoole . 37 

The Dolly House —Margaret Widdemer . 38 

Dolly Takes Tea —Albert Bigelow Paine . 39 

Dressing Mary Ann—M. M. Dodge . 41 

The Little Housewife —Alice C . D. Riley . 42 

































A Little Seamstress —Mary E. Wilkins . 44 

Mammas and Babies —Kate Greenaway . 44 

A Mother’s Dilemma —Anne Madison . 45 

Rebecca —Eleanor Piatt . 4 ^ 

Taking Dolly’s Photograph —Sydney Dayre . 47 

The Tea-Set Blue —Rose Mills Powers . 47 

Week-days in Dolly’s House —John Bennett . 48 

The Wrong Doctor —Emma S. Francis . 50 

BEST LOVED OF ALL 

The Best Loved of All —Katherine Pyle . 52 

The Dearest Dolls —Hannah G. Fernald . 53 

Mary Jane —Margaret Vandegrift . 54 

Mehitable Ann —Isabel Ecclestone Mac\ay . 55 

The Rag Doll —Junius L. Cravens . 56 

The Rubber Doll —Caroline Tic\nor . 57 

When the Guests Are Gone —Harriet Sutherland . 58 

The Wooden Doll —Eugenie Wireman . 58 

MISFORTUNES OF DOLLHOOD 

The Complaint of a Modern Doll —Clara H. Aten . 60 

Doll Rosy’s Bath —Unknown . 60 

The Dead Doll —Margaret Vandegrift . 61 

Jemima Brown —Laura E. Richards . 62 

The Lost Doll —Charles Kingsley . 64 

Rose Ma Belle —Margaret Belle Houston . 64 

An Unfortunate Family —Felix Leigh . 66 

WOOING AND WEDDING 

Belinda Blond —Laura E. Richards . 68 

A Doll’s Wedding —Lucy Larcom . 70 

An Eavesdropper —Anna Maria Pratt . 71 

The Naughty Doll —Eugene Field . 72 

The Money-Jug —Katherine Pyle . 74 

On the Shelf— M. J. . 76 

SONGS AND LULLABIES 

Cuddle Down, Dolly —Kate Douglas Wiggin . So 

Doll’s Cradle Song —From the German . 81 

Dolly’s Lullaby —Helen Gray Cone . 81 

Doll’s Slumber Song —Ethelwyn Wetherald . 82 

Dolly’s Slumber Song —Annie Willis McCullough . 84 

My Cotton Dolly —Mildred Travers Anderson . 84 

[8] 





































MISCELLANEOUS 


Choosing —Rebecca Deming Moore . 88 

The Christmas Doll —Arthur Guiterman . 88 

The Conscientious Correggio Carothers —Malcolm Douglas . 89 

A Ditty of Dolls —Rose Mills Powers . 90 

Tht Doll’s Christmas Tree —Unknown . 91 

The Doll’s Circus —Will Philip Hooper . 92 

Doll’s Song —Lewis Carroll . 95 

Fellow Travellers —Pauline Frances Camp . 95 

In the Doll Shop —Rose Mills Powers . 97 

A Little Schoolma’am —Unknown . 97 

A Mortifying Mistake —Anna Maria Pratt . 99 

My Dolly —Mary Bradley .100 

A Nightmare —Anna May Cooper .101 

Only a Doll —Sarah O. Jewett .102 

Perhaps They Are —Arthur Guiterman .103 

The Sisters —Stella George Stern .104 

The Twin’s Complaint —Ellen Manly .104 

FOREIGN COUSINS 

“Comprenez-Vous ?”—Jennie Betts Hartswick .108 

Feast of the Doll —Nora Archibald Smith .no 

The Japanese Doll —Laura Spencer Porter .in 

A Misunderstanding —Eunice Ward .112 

DOLLS-IN-LAW 

Bing-O —Alice Higgins .114 

Envy —Arthur Guiterman .115 

The Gingerbread Man —Alice Higgins .115 

Golliwumpas —Alice Higgins .116 

Happy Jack —Ralph Bergengren .117 

Iowa Corn Folk —Bertha M. H. Shambaugh .118 

The Lament of the Poppy Doll —Rebecca Deming Moore .119 

A Little Girl’s Dolls— L. I. Bartlett .120 

Penny Paroo —Alicia Aspinwall .120 

Petunia Dolls —Eva MacJarlane .121 

Sewing Doll —Amelia DeWolffers .122 

The Topsy Turvy Doll —Rebecca Deming Moore .123 

[9] 































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































IN THE LONG AGO 






There were two friends, a charming pair! 












A VALENTINE FOR OLD DOLLS 
Let others sing of cooing doves, 

Of beating hearts and new-found loves, 

These my poor rhymes shall tell the graces 
Of china, wax or wooden faces; 

The charm of curls or painted braids, 

Oh, sweet, perennially cheerful maids. 

Your smiles shall last though nations fall, 

And the young hands that dressed you all 
In flowered flounce and ribbons gay, 

Long since to dust be laid away. 

Your years you wear like faint perfume 
Of rose-leaves in a quiet room, 

When winter at the threshold knocks; 

Like some old tune a music-box 
Tinkles as soft as phantom rain 
Falling beyond a window pane. 

And so, where'er you be to-day— 

On parlor shelf; packed snug away 
In attic camphor—still I'll praise 
Your stiff-set limbs, your timeless gaz;e, 

Knowing full well when I am gone 
Thus you will sit and thus smile on. 

—Rachel Field 

THE WOODEN DOLL AND THE WAX DOLL 

( 1804 ) 

There were two friends, a charming pair! 

Brunette the brown, and Blanchidine the fair; 

And she to love Brunette did constantly incline, 
Nor less did Brunette love sweet Blanchidine. 
Brunette in dress was neat, yet always plain; 

But Blanchidine of finery was vain. 


Now Blanchidine a new acquaintance made— 

A little girl most sumptously arrayed, 

In plumes and ribbons, gaudy to behold, 

And India frock, with spots of shining gold. 

Said Blanchidine, “A girl so richly dressed 
Should surely be by every one caressed. 

To play with me, if she will condescend, 

Henceforth 'tis she alone shall be my friend.” 

And so for this new friend in silks adorned 
Her poor Brunette was slighted, left and scorned. 

Of Blanchidine's vast stock of pretty toys, 

A wooden doll her every thought employs; 

Its neck so white, so smooth, its cheeks so red— 
She kissed, she fondled and she took to bed. 

Mamma now brought her home a doll of wax, 

Its hair in ringlets white, as soft as flax; 

Its eyes would open and its eyes would shut; 

And on it too, with taste its clothes were put. 

“My dear wax doll!” sweet Blanchidine would cry— 
Her doll of wood was thrown neglected by. 

One summer's day—'twas in the month of June— 
The sun blazed out in all the heat of noon: 

“My waxen doll,” she cried, “my dear, my charmer! 
What, are you cold? but you shall soon be warmer.” 
She laid it in the sun—misfortune dire! 

The wax ran down as if before the fire! 

Each beauteous feature quickly disappeared, 

And melting, left a blank all soil'd and smeared. 


Her doll disfigured she beheld amazed, 

And thus expressed her sorrow as she gazed: 

“Is it for you my heart I have estranged 

From what I fondly loved, which has not changed? 

Just so may change my new acquaintance fine, 

For whom I left Brunette, that friend of mine. 

No more by outside show will I be lured; 

Of such capricious whims I think I’m cured: 

To plain old friends my heart shall still be true. 
Nor change for every face because ’tis new.” 

Her slighted wooden doll resumed its charms, 

And wrong’d Brunette she clasped within her arms. 

—Jane Taylor 

JEMIMA 

She stands up straight before me. 

With her prim old-fashioned air. 

With her ancient dress and buckled shoes. 

And quaint, cold, wooden stare. 

The little modern maidens 

Think her “queer” and “old” and “slow”, 
But most dear was she to one fond heart, 

Just ninety years ago. 

Time has not dimmed the brightness 
Of her black, well-painted eyes, 

Nor stolen the roses from her cheeks; 

But looks of grim surprise 
Replace the loving glances 

Which she must have given, we know. 
When she saw her little mother’s face, 

Just ninety years ago. 


Her arms are made of linen, 

But the rest is all of wood; 

And she stands up very stiff and straight, 

As welhbred ladies should. 

She likes to stand up always, 

For she thinks it best to show 
To the ilhbred modern dolls the ways 
Of ninety years ago. 

No hair has she ever had, 

So she quite despises curls, 

And she thinks them fit for giddy pates 
Of frivolous doll girls. 

She thinks hair is not needed; 

For she says ’twas never so 
In the good old days when she was young, 

Just ninety years ago. 

She wears three caps as always 

Made, the innermost of lace, 

And the outermost with ruffles wide, 

Which come about her face. 

The middle one of cambric; 

They were all once white as snow, 

But have browned with age since they were made 
Just ninety years ago. 

Her dress was fine and dainty, 

Of a blue and white, ’twould seem, 

But the blue is now a faded plum, 

The white is like rich cream. 

[ 16 ] 


The skirt her ankles reaches 

And the neck is rather low; 

But twas in the height of style, when new, 

Just ninety years ago. 

Her little hose were snow-white, 

And were tied with ribbons blue, 

And she has small silken slippers, 

Which were bright pink when new. 

She wears her red shoes always, 

With the silver buckles, though 
She has lost one buckle—careless she, 

Just ninety years ago. 

She always wears a necklace 

Of small beads of shining green. 

Her little mother strung those beads 
With loving thoughts between. 

You plainly see that they are glass; 

But you must not tell her so, 

For they played that they were emeralds, once 
Just ninety years ago. 

Her rosy cheeks are wrinkled, 

There are cracks across her brow, 

And her quaint old dress is thin and worn; 

She is never played with now. 

She dreams of days when no one 

Thought her “queer” or “old” or “slow”, 

And she longs to be once more beloved 
As ninety years ago. 

—Harriet Clar\ McLear 

[17] 


THE LONG AGO DOLL 

Way up in Grandma’s attic where 
Some little dusty shadows creep, 

I found my mother’s Mandy Claire 
Inside a trunk asleep. 

Her yellow dress was trimmed with lace, 
Her hair was very black and thin, 

And camphor balls were in the place 
That she was dreaming in. 

And long ago—and long ago— 

A little girl that used to be 
Left Mandy Claire a-sleeping so— 

Before there was a me. 

So Mandy Claire, is waiting till— 

But I got sort of lonesome then 
And while she slept there very still 
I tiptoed out again. 

—Marjorie Barrows 


THE FAIRING 

( 1837 ) 

Oh dear! what a beautiful Doll 
My sister has bought at the fair! 
She says I must call it “Miss Poll”, 
And make it a bonnet to wear. 


O pretty new Doll! it looks fine; 

Its cheeks are all cover’d with red; 

But, pray, will it always be mine? 

And, pray, may I take it to bed? 

How kind was my sister to buy 
This Dolly, with hair that will curl! 
Perhaps, if you want to know why, 

She’ll tell you I’ve been a good girl. 

—Nancy Sproat 


LUCY AND DICKY 

( 1837 ) 

Miss Lucy was a charming child, 

She never said, I won’t! 

If little Dick her playthings spoiled. 

She said. Pray, Dicky, don’t! 

He took her waxen doll one day, 

And banged it round and round. 

Then tore its legs and arms away. 

And threw them on the ground. 

His good mama was angry quite, 

And Lucy’s tears ran down; 

But Dick went supperless that night. 
And since has better grown. 

—Author Unknown 


MY DOLL 

( 1852 ) 

I have a little doll, 

I take care of her clothes; 

And she has flaxen hair, 

And her name is Rose. 

She has pretty violet eyes 
And a very small nose 
And a sweet little mouth, 

And her name is Rose. 

She has a little bed, 

And when the daylight goes 
I tuck her up in it, 

And say, “Good night, dear Rose.” 

—Author Unknown 

THE NEW DOLL 

( 1837 ) 

Miss Jenny and Polly 
Had each a new Dolly, 

With rosy-red cheeks and blue eyes. 
Dress’d in ribbons and gauze; 

And they quarrelled because 
The dolls were not both of a size. 

O silly Miss Jenny! 

To be such a ninny, 

To quarrel and make such a noise! 

For the very same day 
Their mamma sent away 
Their dolls with red cheeks and blue eyes. 

—Author Unknown 


[20] 


DOLLY GOING TO SLEEP 

( 1852 ) 

There, go to sleep, Dolly, in mother's own lap; 

I'll put on your night gown and neat little cap; 

So, sleep, pretty baby, and shut up your eye; 

Bye-bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye-bye. 

Now I'll lay my clean handkerchief over your head, 

And then make you think that my lap is your bed; 

So, hush, little dear, and be sure you don't cry; 

Bye-bye, little Dolly, lie still and bye-bye. 

There, now it is morning, and time to get up; 

I'll crumb you a mess in my own china cup; 

Awake, little baby, and open your eye, 

For I think it's high time to be done with bye-bye. 

—Author Unknown 

SATURDAY NIGHT 

( 1852 ) 

Now Dolly, my dear, 

I pray you come here; 

The daylight has gone. 

And work is all done; 

I’ll put you to bed, for tomorrow is Sunday, 

And I’ll not see you again until Monday. 

You don’t want to go? 

But you ought to know 
That it is but right; 

So, Dolly, good-night; 

You must lie without noise or crying till Monday, 

For you know we ought not to play on Sunday. 

—Author Unknown 

[21] 


THE TORN DOLL 

( 1852 ) 

Caty, my dear, 

Come here, come here; 

Fve a short tale for you to hear. 

Upon the floor, 

Behind the door, 

This mom I found a dolly poor. 

Once she was new, 

And pretty, too, 

With cloak and hat, and frock and shoe. 

But oh, dear me, 

A sight to see 

Has that same dollie come to be. 

Her clothes all worn, 

And soiled and tom; 

Alas, alas, she looks forlorn. 

I wonder who 
Has made her so; 

Why, Caty dear, can it be you? 

—Author Unknown 

A NURSERY RHYME 

( 1852 ) 

Hushy baby, my doll, I pray you don't cry, 

And Lll give you some bread and some milk by-and-by; 
Or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart— 

Then to either you're welcome, with all my whole heart. 

—Author Unknown 


NURSERY RHYMES 



ALL THE BELLS ARE RINGING 


All the bells are ringing 
And all the birds are singing, 

When Molly sat down crying 
For her broken doll; 

Oh, you silly Moll! 

Sobbing and sighing 

For a broken doll, 

When all the bells are ringing 
And all the birds are singing. 

—Christina G. Rossetti 


AT BEDTIME 

See! I take them in my chair, 
Cuddled close to me, 

Dolly Dear and Teddy Bear, 

Sleepy as can be! 

Such a busy, busy day, 

Packed so full of fun! 

Now we have to stop our play. 

For the day is done. 

So I rock them to and fro. 

Humming lullabies 
Very soft and very low; 

Dolly, shut your eyes! 

—Harriet Sutherland 


THE FAVORITE DOLL 
One, I love. Two, I love her. 

Three, with her I play. 

Four, I keep her near to me 
Nearly all the day. 

Five, I kiss her, Six, I’d miss her 
If she strayed away. 

Seven, I take her out to ride. 

Eight, whene’er I may. 

Nine, it’s time she had her nap. 

Ten, up-stairs we creep; 

Eleven, I put her into bed; 

Twelve, she goes to sleep! 

— J. R. Gray 


THE KIDNAPER 
Danny was a rascal, 

Danny was a scamp; 

He carried off a lady doll 

And left her in the damp. 

He took her off on Monday; 

On Wednesday in he came 
And dumped her gayly on the floor 
Without a bit of shame. 

He was not sad or humble, 

He did not beg for pardon; 

He merely barked, “A lady doll 
I found out in the garden!” 

—Mary Dill 


[25I 


THE OWNER AWAY 
Hark, Hark! What’s that noise? 
Something’s the matter with the toys. 
Scrub, scrub! Swish, swash! 

The biggest doll is trying to wash. 

The other dolls are making cake. 

The new cooDstove is beginning to bake; 
The table is setting itself, you see; 

They must be expecting friends to tea. 

—Author Unknown 

POLLY AND HER DOLLIES 
Polly is reading aloud to her dollies 
An interesting tale from her favorite book; 
But her dollies soon found it too deep, 

And have quietly fallen asleep, 

As Polly would see 

If she were not too busy to look! 

— M. O. Kohbe 


SING A SONG OF DOLLIES 
Sing a song of dollies 
All on a rainy day! 

Aunty took the scissor 
And snipped and snipped away. 

Four and twenty dollies 
Dancing in a row 
Wasn’t that a merry way 
To make the hours go? 

—Rebecca Deming Moore 


LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER 
AND MOTHER 



CHRISTENING DOLLY 

See, this is my Christmas dolly, 

Two weeks ago she came; 

And, OH! the trouble I have had 
To find a pretty name. 

At first I thought of Marguerite— 

A French name, meaning “pearl”— 

But Nellie said, “Oh! that’s too stiff 
For such a graceful girl.” 

And then I mentioned, one by one, 

Susanna, Ruth, and Poll, 

“But they are too old-fashioned names,” 

Nell said, “to suit your doll.” 

So next I got a great big book, 

And searched it through and through, 

Then shook my head and sadly said: 

“There’s not one name will do.” 

My brother Tom was sitting near; 

He raised his eyes and smiled; 

“Why, Pussy, dear,” he kindly said, 

“Suppose I name your child.” 

“Oh! will you, Brother Tom,” I cried, 

And then I hugged him so; 

“We’ll play you are the parson 

That christens folks, you know.” 


So then, he took her in his arms 
And solemnly and slow 

He said, “This baby’s name shall be 
Miss Josephine, or Jo.” 

And there, before I knew it, 

My baby had a name; 

And what I like about it, is, 

That mine is just the same. 

— E. C. and L. /. Roo\ 

A CHRISTMAS DILEMMA 

What shall dollie have for Christmas? 

Eve been thinking all day long, 

For I want to ask old Santa, 

And I mustn’t get it wrong. 

Would a new hat be the nicest, 

With a bow and feather, too? 

Or a bran new dress for Sundays, 

Or a nicer sash of blue? 

I know she needs a pair of slippers, 

Pink ones—they’d be very nice, 

But I want the very best thing 
That he’ll bring for any price. 

And she has so many dresses, 

All the clothes and things, you know, 

That used to be my other dollie’s, 

My dear old Arabella Jo. 


That’s the one I broke last summer, 

And you don’t know how I’ve missed her, 

O Santa Claus! I’ve thought of something— 
Bring my doll a nice, new sister. 

—Nellie M. Sinnell 


A DEVOTED MOTHER 

If I had a little sick dolly, 

I know what I should do; 

I would feed it with care and give it fresh air, 

And go to the doctor’s too. 

And then if the doctor should hand me 
Some candy pills from the shelf, 

And dolly said, “Oh, I can’t take them—no!” 

I’d swallow them all myself. 

For you know, of course, I could never use force, 
So I’d swallow them all myself. 

Yes, I am a careful young mother. 

When dollies are sick and weak 
I forbid them to walk, I don’t let them talk, 

Nor even permit them to speak. 

In winter I give them a straw ride, 

Well wrapped up is each little elf, 

And smiling to see with what vigor and glee 
I am skipping and singing myself. 

The unselfish and good and wise mother should 
Do the skipping and singing herself. 

—Ethelwyn Wether aid 


DISCIPLINE 


Dolly's very naughty; 

Dolly will not play; 

Everything I tell her 

Makes her cross today. 

See how she is pouting! 

Oh, what can I do? 

Dolly, when she's naughty 

Makes me naughty too. 

Let me see! Supposing, 

Dolly, I were you, 

And was very naughty 

What would Mother do? 

Would she scold and punish 
So severely? No! 

She would say she loved me, 

And would kiss me—so! 

She would say I grieved her. 

That would make me sad; 

I would feel so sorry 

Till we both were glad. 

So, my little dolly, 

I'll be good to you; 

And you'll be, to please me, 

Good and loving, too. 

— M. von Seydewitz 

CsO 


THE DOLL-BABY SHOW 

Our doll-baby show, it was something quite grand; 
You saw there the loveliest dolls in the land. 

Each girl brought her own, in its prettiest dress; 
Three pins bought a ticket, and not a pin less. 

For the doll that was choicest we offered a prize; 
There were wee mites of dollies, and some of great size; 
Some came in rich purple, some lilac, some white, 
With ribbons and laces—a wonderful sight! 

Now, there was one dolly, so tall and so proud 
She put all the others quite under a cloud; 

But one of us hinted in so many words, 

That sometimes fine feathers do not make fine birds. 

We sat in a row with our dolls in our laps; 

The dolls behaved sweetly, and met no mishaps. 

No boy was admitted—for boys will make fun; 

Now which do you think was the dolly that won? 

Soon all was commotion to hear who would get 
The prize; for the dollies' committee had met; 

We were the committee; and which do you think 
Was the doll we decided on, all in a wink? 

Why, each of us said that our own was the best, 

The finest, the sweetest, the prettiest drest; 

So we all got the prize. We'll invite you to go 
The next time we girls have our doll-baby show. 

—George Cooper 


THE DOLLS 

I take them up at morning and I put them down at night, 

The big one, and the small one, and the rest; 

The one that came from Londomtown, the one from bright Japan, 
And the weary, deary one that I love best. 

I take them up with smiling, and I lay them down with sighs, 
And I smooth their hair with loving and with pride. 

When I put them in their cradle at the paling of the skies, 

I sing my very softest at their side. 

Oh, a boy may have a fife and drum, a boy may have a gun, 

A boy may have a helmet and a plume, 

And a boy may go a-marching all about the house with shouts, 
And set the echoes ringing in a room. 

But dolls were made for girls, I think, and here before the fire 
I rock them, rock them, rock them to their rest 
The one that came from Londomtown, the one from bright Japan, 
The dainty Paris lady, with the fluffy feather fan, 

The nodding one that shuts its eyes, as sleepy babies can, 

And the weary, deary one that I love best. 

—Miriam S. Clar\ 


THE DOLLS’ DINNER 

Now, pay attention, children! I’ve a treat for you today! 

We’re invited out to dinner by little Kitty Clay! 

I didn’t know in time, dears, to get new dresses made, 

And some of yours are shabby, I’m very much afraid. 

But you will be quite willing to share your things, I know; 

You wouldn’t half enjoy it unless you all could go. 

Twill take a little planning to get you nicely dressed, 

And I must start in season, that each may look her best. 

1331 



I \now we shall enjoy it 




v < 

























Lissette will have no trouble—her party dress is new, 

And she can lend her muslin and satin sash to Sue. 

Lucille can wear her tea^gown, and little Lucy Ann 
Can have Louisa's shirtwaist and Angelina's fan. 

Dear Betty, in pink gingham, looks very fresh and sweet, 

And here's a cape for Mary that reaches to her feet; 

She must keep it on at dinner, and say she has a cold, 

And nobody will notice that her dress is rather old. 

Rosanna's blue merino has had a dreadful tear; 

I tried to darn it nicely, but still the mark is there, 

So Lily's muslin apron must cover up the place, 

And I'll freshen up the bodice with Matilda's bib of lace. 

May only has one slipper—'twas trying, I must say, 

To have the puppy swallow the other just today! 

To go in that condition is anything but neat— 

You must try to hide it, darling, by sitting on your feet. 

And here’s your pretty necklace, it's all you have that's new, 

But the diamonds are beauties, and so I guess you'll do! 

My dearest Angelina, I'm very proud of you. 

You certainly look charming in red and white and blue, 

With yellow fringe for trimming, and stars on sleeves and waist 
I'm very sure that nothing could be in better taste. 

And then it's so uncommon—no one could ever guess 

Where mother found material to make that sweet new dress. 

Please hold your breath, Matilda—this dress is much too tight, 
I'm afraid you'll find it trying to keep it on till night. 

I’m sorry, I can't help it, but you must look genteel 
When going out to dinner, no matter how you feel. 

And this is so becoming, and such a stylish fit, 

That though it pinches badly, just make the best of it. 


[35] 


Here, Mammy, is your apron and your kerchief clean and white, 
And with your new bandana you're quite a lively sight! 
Perhaps you're not expected, but I could never go 

And leave the precious baby alone at home, you know. 

So here's the little darling—be sure you hold her tight. 

It's surely very lucky I dressed her overnight! 

And now we'll talk of manners while I'm curling Lily's hair—* 

A more important question than what you're going to wear. 
I hope you'll do me credit—I shouldn't like it said 
That any of my darlings were noisy or ilbbred. 

First, Susy dear, remember you mustn't shake your head 
Like that when at the table, but say “No thanks" instead. 

And please, my darling Betty, do try to sit up straight! 

You're getting very crooked from wabbling so of late. 

I know you're old and shaky, and can't do as* you would, 

But stiffen up a little, and it will do you good. 

I hope that Angelina will keep her toes turned out; 

And Mary, don't forget, love, and flop your arms about. 
May, you must keep real quiet—your wig is loose, my dear; 

You wouldn't like to feel it go sliding toward one ear! 

There! Now the last one's ready and nobody would know 
How hard it was to manage, so all of you could go. 

You surely do look lovely, but I'm tired as tired can be— 

'Tis not an easy thing to dress so large a family. 

I know we shall enjoy it, but really, I must say, 

I'm glad we're not invited to dinner every day. 

—Ellen Manly 


THE DOLL’S FUNERAL 

When my dolly died, when my dolly died, 

I sat on the step, and I cried, and I cried— 

And wouldn’t eat any jam and bread, 

Cause it didn’t seem right, when my doll was dead. 
And Bridget was sorry as she could be: 

For she patted my head, and "Oh," said she, 

“To think that the pretty has gone and died!" 

Then I broke out afresh, and I cried—and I cried. 

And all the dolls from all around 

Came to see my doll put under the ground: 

There was Lucy Lee, and Mary Clack 
Brought their dolls over, all dressed in black: 

And Emmeline Hope, and Sarah Lou 
Came over and brought their dollies, too. 

And all the time I cried, and cried: 

’Cause it hurt me so, when my dolly died. 

We dressed her up in a new white gown, 

With ribbon and lace edged all around; 

And made her a coffin in a box 

Where my brother keeps his spelling blocks. 

And we had some prayers, and a funeral, too: 

And our hymn was the “Two Little Girls in Blue." 
But for me, I only cried, and cried: 

’Cause I couldn’t sing when my doll had died. 

We dug her a grave in the violet bed, 

And planted violets at her head; 

And raised a stone, where we wrote quite plain: 
“Here lies a dear doll, what died of pain." 


And then my brother he said “Amen”; 

And we all went back to the house again. 

But for me, I only cried, and cried;— 

'Cause it hurt me so when my dolly died. 

And then we had some jam and bread— 

I didn't eat—’cause my doll was dead: 

But I tied some crepe on my dolhhouse door, 

And then I cried and cried some more. 

And I couldn't be happy, don't you see? 

'Cause the funeral all belonged to me. 

Then the others went home;—and then— 

I went out and dug up my dolly again. 

—Will Allen Dromgoole 


THE DOLLY HOUSE 

Underneath the lilac boughs 
There I have my dolly house, 
Where I sit and play 
Almost all the day. 

No one else could get inside, 

Nurse nor mother, if they tried: 

It is much too small 
If a person's tall. 

All the boughs and leaves of green 
Hang across and make a screen, 

So I'm shut in tight, 

Hidden out of sight. 


I should like to always stay, 

But I have to go away 

For my milk and bread 
And to go to bed. 

Some time I shall come to stay 
There, and never go away 
From my dolly house 
In the lilac boughs: 

Father’s house is big and fine, 

But I’d rather stay in mine, 

Where there’s nothing tall 
And I own it all. 

—Margaret Widdemer 


DOLLY TAKES TEA 

When Dolly sits down to the table, 
And ev’rything’s ready for tea, 
With cookies and water for Mabel, 
And water and cookies for me. 

We nibble and chatter with Dolly, 
And offer her “tea” from a spoon. 
And often our meal is so jolly 

It lasts through the whole afternoon. 

Till Mabel jumps up in a hurry 
And says that she really must go. 
And I say, “Oh, truly. I’m sorry, 
And Dolly’s enjoyed it, I know.” 


139 d 


Then gaily we clear off the table, 

When Dolly has finished her tea, 

With cookies and water for Mabel, 

And water and cookies for me. 

—Albert Bigelow Paine 








DRESSING MARY ANN 
She came to me one Christmas day, 

In paper, with a card to say: 

“From Santa Claus and Uncle John ”— 

And not a stitch the child had on! 

‘Til dress you; never mind!” said I, 

“And brush your teeth; now, don’t you cry.” 

First, I made her little hose, 

And shaped them nicely at the toes. 

Then I bought a pair of shoes,— 

A lovely “dolly’s number two’s.” 

Next I made a petticoat; 

And put a chain around her throat. 

Then when she shivered, I made haste, 

To cut her out an underwaist. 

Next I made a party dress, 

It took me ’most a week, I guess. 

And then I named her Mary Ann, 

And gave the dear a paper fan. 

Next I made a velvet sacque 
That fitted nicely in the back. 

Then I trimmed a lovely hat,— 

Oh, how sweet she looked in that\ 

And dear, my sakes, that wasn’t all, 

I bought her next a parasol! 

She looked so grand when she was dressed 
You really never would have guessed 
How very plain she seemed to be 
The day when first she came to me. 

—M. M. Dodge 

[4 1 ] 


THE LITTLE HOUSEWIFE 


Oh, Monday's Dolly's washing day, 

So bring out the little tub; 

The basket new, the wee board too, 
Then rub and rub and rub. 

Now hang the clothes upon the line, 
Out in the sunshine bright, 

We've washed out little Dolly's clothes, 
All sweet and clean and white. 

Oh, Tuesday's Dolly's ironing day, 

The tiny irons we'll heat; 

And smooth each pretty little dress, 

So dainty and so neat. 

Then hang it on the wooden rack, 

So carefully to air, 

Now Dolly's wardrobe neat and clean, 
Will show a housewife's care. 

Oh, Friday's Dolly's sweeping day, 

So bring out the little broom; 

And soon with careful willing hands 
We'll sweep the dusty room. 

And every speck of dust and dirt, 

We'll quickly drive away, 

We'll make the house with order shine. 
For Friday's sweeping day. 



Oh, Monday's Dolly's washing day 







































Oh, Saturday is baking day, 

For Dolly dear must eat; 

Some fresh light loaves of wheaten bread, 

Some cookies round and sweet. 

And now our weekly work is done, 

Good housewives all are we, 

The house is clean above, below, 

The cupboard's full you see. 

—Alice C. D. Riley 

A LITTLE SEAMSTRESS 

She sat in her little rocking-chair, a sighing 
and twirling her thumbs: 

“Oh, everything for my doll is done, and never 
to mending comes! 

I haven't a morsel of sewing!—Dear Mother, in 
all the town, 

Can't you find me one doll, no matter how small, 
who will wear out her gown?" 

—Mary E. Wilkins 

MAMMAS AND BABIES 

“My Polly is so very good, 

Belinda never cries; 

My baby often goes to sleep, 

See how she shuts her eyes." 

“Dear Mrs. Lemon, tell me when 
Belinda goes to school; 

And what time does she go to bed?" 

“Well, eight o'clock’s the rule. 

U4] 


But now and then, just for a treat, 

I let her wait awhile; 

You shake your head—why wouldn’t you? 

Do look at Baby’s smile!” 

"Dear Mrs. Primrose, will you come 
One day next week to tea? 

Of course bring Rosalinda, and 
That darling—Rosalie.” 

"Dear Mrs. Cowslip, you are kind; 

My little folks, I know, 

Will be so very pleased to come; 

Dears—tell Mrs. Cowslip so.” 

Oh, do you know—perhaps you’ve not heard— 
She had a dreadful fright; 

My Daisy with the measles 
Kept me up every night. 

"And then I’ve been so worried— 

Clarissa had a fit; 

And the doctor said he couldn’t 
In the least account for it.” 

—Kate Greenaway 


A MOTHER’S DILEMMA 

My children play in mud so much 
It’s hard to keep them clean, 
Mondays and Saturdays I wash 
And everyday between. 


I’m blue with bluing, soaked with suds 
And nothing but a scrubber. 

I think I’ll throw away their duds 
And dress them all in rubber. 

—Anne Madison 

REBECCA 
I have a doll, Rebecca, 

She’s quite a little care, 

I have to press her ribbons 
And comb her fluffy hair. 

I keep her clothes all mended, 

And wash her hands and face. 

And make her frocks and aprons, 

All trimmed in frills and lace. 

I have to cook her breakfast, 

And pet her when she’s ill; 

And telephone the doctor 
When Rebecca has a chill. 

Rebecca doesn’t like that, 

And says she’s well and strong; 

And says she’ll try—oh! very hard, 

To be good all day long. 

But when night comes, she’s nodding; 

So into bed we creep 
And snuggle up together, 

And soon are fast asleep. 

I have no other dolly, 

For you can plainly see, 

In caring for Rebecca, 

I’m busy as can be! 


—Eleanor Piatt 


TAKING DOLLY’S PHOTOGRAPH 


“Ah, naughty Dolly! When I say: 

'Just turn a little more this way,’ 

And then perhaps: c Now, smile,’ I find 
You do not often try to mind. 

“But when I say: 'Now, pet, keep still,’ 

I’m very, very sure you will, 

And there’s no need to say to you: 

Took pleasant’—for you always do.” 

—Sydney Day re 

THE TEA-SET BLUE 
When Tillie brings her tea-set blue— 

Her lovely set of blue— 

And lays the dishes all about 
The table, two by two, 

The little doll-house people all 
Begin to wonder who will call. 

For’t is a signal, beyond doubt, 

That visitors are due, 

When Tillie brings her tea-set out— 

Her treasured set of blue. 

So all the dollies watch and wait, 

And sit up very nice and straight. 

And Pierrot forgets to tease 
In hopes to be a guest; 

The little Jap from over-seas 
Tries hard to look his best; 

While Mam’selle French Doll, all the while 
Wears—ah, the most angelic smile! 


For all the nursery people know 
As well as well can be 
That dollies must be good to go 
With Tillie out to tea. 

And would not that seem fair to you, 

If - you possessed a tea-set blue? 

—Rose Mills Powers 


WEEK-DAYS IN DOLLY'S HOUSE 

On Monday morning Dolly's clothes 
All need a thorough tubbing; 

So Prue and I put in the day 

With washing, rinsing, rubbing; 

With boiling, bluing, bleaching, too, 

As all good washerwomen do, 

Till Dolly's clothes are clean as new 
And we have finished scrubbing. 

On Tuesday comes the ironing, 

The starching, sprinkling, pressing; 

For doing gowns up prettily 
Is half the charm of dressing. 

And from our irons all the day 

We have to coax the cats away, 

For with them they will try to play— 
And that would be distressing! 

On Wednesday thread and needle fly 
With basting, whipping, stitching; 

With hooks and eye and buttonholes 
To keep our fingers twitching. 


And while the scissors snip, snip, snip, 

We patch and darn and mend and rip, 

Till all is trim from tip to tip, 

And Dolly looks bewitching. 

On Thursday afternoon we take 
A recess from our labors, 

Dress Dolly up in all her best 
And call upon the neighbors; 

So she may learn to sit up straight, 

Nor come too soon, nor stay too late, 

And always think to shut the gate 
At Tompkin’s and at Tabor’s. 

On Friday, dusting-rag in hand, 

We hurry up the sweeping, 

And air the household furniture 
While Dolly still is sleeping. 

We dust the mantels and the chairs, 

The closet-shelves and kitchen stairs, 

And shake the rugs and portieres 
Like truly-true housekeeping. 

On Saturday we bake our bread, 

Enough to last till Monday, 

With sugar-pies and apple-tarts 
For Dolly’s dinner Sunday; 

With doughnuts round as napkin rings, 

And cookies lit for queens and kings 
For oh! it takes such lots of things 
To keep a Dolly one day. 

—]ohn Bennett 

C49] 



THE WRONG DOCTOR 

O Doctor Man, O Doctor Man, 

Em glad you hurried here! 

Please tell me quickly as you can 
What ails my Dolly Dear! 

She hasn’t closed her eyes to-day 
To sleep a single wink; 

She will not eat; she will not play; 

I don’t know what to think! 

I know she must be very ill; 

What do you make of it? 

Perhaps a plaster or a pill 

Would help her case a bit? 

You say she isn’t sick at all? 

I will not have it so! 

I’ll have another doctor call; 

Please take your hat and go! 

—Emma S. Francis 


[50] 


BEST LOVED OF ALL 





t 




THE BEST LOVED OF ALL 
Three new dolls sat on three little chairs, 
Waiting for Christmas Day; 

And they wondered, when she saw them, 
What the little girl would say. 

They hoped that the nursery life was gay; 

And they hoped that they would find 
That the little girl often played with dolls; 
And they hoped that she was kind. 

Near by sat an old doll neatly dressed 
In a new frock, black and red; 

She smiled at the French dolls—“As to that, 
Don't feel afraid," she said. 

The new dolls turned their waxen heads, 
They looked with a haughty stare, 

As if they had never seen before 
That a doll was sitting there. 

“Oh, we're not in the least afraid," said one, 
“We are quite too fine and new; 

But perhaps you yourself will find that now 
She will scarcely care for you." 

The old doll shook her head and smiled: 

She smiled, although she knew 
Her plaster nose was almost gone, 

And her cheeks were faded too. 

And now it was day; in came the child, 
And there all gay and bright 
Sat three new dolls in little chairs— 

It was a lovely sight. 


She praised their curls, and noticed too 
How finely they were dressed; 

But the old doll all the while was held 
Clasped close against her breast. 

—Katherine Pyle 


THE DEAREST DOLLS 

Miss Winifred Evelyn Constance McKee 
Invited our dolls to an afternoon tea, 

“But don't bring them all, 

For my table is small, 

Just let each little girl bring her dearest," said she. 

I felt in my heart it would not be polite 
To take my poor Rosa—she's grown such a fright! 

She is blind in one eye, 

And her wig's all awry, 

For she sleeps in my bed with me all through the night. 

I explained to dear Rosa just why she must stay, 

And I dressed Bonniebelle in her finest array; 

And then, do you know, 

When the time came to go, 

I snatched up my Rosa and ran all the way! 

And—what do you think?—of the six dolls that came 
There were four that were blind, there were two that were lame! 
And each little mother 
Explained to some other, 

“She's old—but I love her the best just the same!" 

—Hannah G . Fernald 


[53] 


MARY JANE 

I have said it a great many times, 

But I think I will say it again; 

There is no one, except mamma and papa, 

That I love as I love Mary Jane. 

Antoinette has most lovely real hair, 

And is dressed in the very last style, 

But I somehow could shake her (and sometimes I do) 
For her one everlasting smile. 

If I squeeze Baby Belle, she will cry— 

Or she thinks so; I call it a squeak— 

And Dolores 1 mantilla is made of black lace, 

And my pretty French Lulu can speak. 

But who, of them all, do you think, 

Staid in bed with me when I was ill? 

Oh, you needn't deny it! She did make a face, 
Whenever they gave me a pill. 

And I know that, whatever they say, 

It was hearing me gasp with that cough, 

And trying, the darling, to help hold my head, 

That made her poor arms both come off. 

And she didn't so much as once squirm, 

When Mamma sewed them on, though I know 

It must have hurt dreadfully—that's how she is 
And she always considers me so! 


[54] 


She knew I was ready to cry, 

So she just held as tight as a mouse, 

If a needle'd gone into me so, only once 

You'd have heard me all over the house! 

I think I will put her to sleep; 

It is time little girls were in bed. 

There, hushaby, darling lie still in my arms— 

You are sleepy, you're nodding your head! 

Hush, hushaby, baby, hush, hush! 

Your mother is holding you tight; 

She will hear you, my darling, and hug you right off, 
If you wake up afraid in the night. 

I think—she is nearly—asleep! 

Yes, precious, your—mother is—here. 

You can—go—to sleep—safely—for she'll stay—awake, 
And—will—not—let—go—of—you—dear! 

—Margaret Vandegrift 

MEHITABLE ANN 
I love Mehitable Ann! 

Last night my sister said: 

“Mehitable Ann is far from new; 

I’d put her away if I were you— 

Love Princess Pry instead!” 

But I love Mehitable Ann! 

And I cant love “Pry" instead, 

If Mehitable’s cheeks are pale and white; 

They lost their red that awful night 
The puppy chewed her head. 


And I love Mehitable Ann— 

She can’t help being thin 
And there isn’t a single reason why 
She can’t be as plump as Princess Pry 
If I put more sawdust in. 

The Princess Pry is nice; 

And so is teeny Nan— 

Shes in'de'Structd'ble, too, you see— 

But something away inside of me 
Just loves Mehitable Ann! 

—Isabel Ecclestone Mac\ay 


THE RAG DOLL 

Liza’s just a rag doll, 

Old and awful lookin’; 

I don’t like her any more, 

She’s going to get forsooken. 

What I want’s a jointy doll 
With hair and pretty dresses, 
Instead of these old woolly things 
That look such awful messes. 

Yet, Liza is a good doll, 

And such a quiet sleeper; 

She never breaks or comes apart— 
I guess I’d better keep her! 




—Junius L. Cravens 



THE RUBBER DOLL 

There were many dolls on the nursery shelf. 

All were lovely, except myself; 

They were made of wax, and fair to see, 

But some one always played with me. 

I never was handsome, I never was dressed 
In frocks and coats the very best; 

My face was not pretty and pinUand-white, 

But some one kissed me every night. 

My hair was never a flaxen hue, 

Nor my eyes a gleaming, glassy blue; 

My legs were stumpy and stiff and queer, 

But some one always called me “dear.” 

Oh, the big wax doll was stately and grand, 

The porcelain princess could walk or stand; 

I was only a rubber doll, so small, 

But some one loved me best of all. 

—Caroline Tic\nor 

C 57 3 




WHEN THE GUESTS ARE GONE 

Will you have a cup of tea, Dolly? 

And a bit of candy, too? 

Its the best we had and Fm very glad 
That some was left for you. 

Oh, yes, we had a lovely party, 

And I like them all, you know; 

But when it’s through Fm glad that you 
Are not the one to go. 

You never cry or scold, Dolly, 

Nor upset what Fve planned; 

I never heard you speak a word, 

But I know you understand! 

So have a cup of tea, Dolly, 

And a cake and candy, too; 

The best of fun when the party's done 
Is my little chat with you. 

—Harriet Sutherland 


THE WOODEN DOLL 
They say my doll is only wood, 

For her they do not care, 

She is not made all pink and white, 

With curling, yellow hair. 

But I shall hold her very close, 

She's loving as can be; 

It matters not what others say, 

She’s very dear to me. 

—Eugenie Wireman 


MISFORTUNES OF DOLLHOOD 



I 



THE COMPLAINT OF A MODERN DOLL 
A modern doll I chance to be, 

And what I hear about Vitamin C! 

It’s Vitamin A, and it’s Vitamin D 
Till I get so tired I can scarcely see. 

This coddiver oil, I hate the smell— 

If they let me alone 
I’ll soon get well. 

But they feed me this 
And they feed me that— 

Always trying to make me fat. 

Oh, I am underweight, I know— 

But all I need is a chance to grow. 

Wish I’d been born long years ago 

When there wasn’t so much for mothers to know. 

—Clara H. Aten 

DOLL ROSY’S BATH 
’Tis time Doll Rosy had a bath, 

And she’ll be good, I hope; 

She likes the water well enough, 

But doesn’t like the soap. 

Now soft I’ll rub her with a sponge, 

Her eyes and nose and ears, 

And splash her fingers in the bowl 
And never mind the tears. 

There now—oh, my! what have I done? 

I’ve washed the skin off—see! 

Her pretty pink and white are gone 
Entirely! Oh, dear me! 


—Author Unknown 


THE DEAD DOLL 

You needn’t be trying to comfort me—I tell you my dolly is dead! 

There’s no use saying she isn’t, with a crack like that in her head; 

It s just like you said it wouldn’t hurt much to have my tooth out 
that day 

And when the man most pulled off my head, you hadn't a word 
to say. 

And I guess you must think I'm a baby, to say you can mend it 
with glue, 

As if I didn't know better than that! Why just suppose it was you. 

You might make her look all mended—but what do I care for 
looks? 

Why glue's for chairs and tables and toys and the backs of books. 

My dolly! My own little daughter! Oh, but it's the awfullest crack 

It just makes me sick to think of the sound when her poor head 
went whack 

Against that horrible brass thing that holds up the little shelf, 

Now Nursey, what makes you remind me? I know that I did it 
myself. 

I think that you must be crazy—you'll get her another head! 

What good would forty heads do her? I tell you my dolly is dead! 

And to think that I hadn’t quite finished her elegant new spring 
hat! 

And I took a ribbon of hers last night to tie on that horrid cat! 

When my mama gave me that ribbon—I was playing out in the 
yard— 

She said to me most expressly, “Here's a ribbon for Hildegarde.” 

And I went and put it on Tabby, and Hildegarde saw me do it; 

But I said to myself, “Oh, never mind. I don't believe she knew it.” 

[61] 


But I know that she knew it now, and I just believe I do, 

That her poor little heart was broken, and so her head broke too. 
Oh, my baby! my little baby! I wish my head had been hit! 

For Fve hit it over and over and it hasn't cracked a bit. 

But since my darling is dead, she'll want to be buried, of course; 
We will take my little wagon, Nurse, and you shall be the horse; 
And I'll walk behind and cry; and we'll put her in this, you see— 
This dear little box—and we'll bury her under the tree. 

And papa will make her a tombstone, like the one he made for 
my bird; 

And I'll tell him what to put on it—yes, every single word! 

I shall say, “Here lies Hildegarde, a beautiful doll who is dead; 
She died of a broken heart, and a dreadful crack in her head." 

—Margaret Vandegrift 


JEMIMA BROWN 

Bring her here, my little Alice— 
Poor Jemima Brown! 

Make the little cradle ready. 

Softly lay her down. 

Once she lived in ease and comfort. 
Slept on couch of down; 

Now upon the floor she’s lying— 
Poor Jemima Brown! 

Once she was a lovely dolly, 
Rosy-cheeked and fair. 

With her eyes of brightest azure, 
And her golden hair. 


[62] 


Now, alas! no hair's remaining 
On her poor old crown; 

And the crown itself is broken— 

Poor Jemima Brown! 

Once her legs were smooth and comely, 
And her nose was straight; 

And that arm, now hanging lonely 
Had, methinks, a mate. 

And she was as finely dressed as 
Any doll in town. 

Now she's old, forlorn and ragged— 
Poor Jemima Brown! 

Yet be kind to her, my Alice! 

'Tis no fault of hers 
If her willful little mistress 
Other dolls prefers. 

Did she pull her pretty hair out? 

Did she break her crown? 

Did she tear her arms and legs off? 
Poor Jemima Brown! 

Little hands that did the mischief, 

You must do your best 
Now to give the poor old dolly 
Comfortable rest. 

So we'll make the cradle ready, 

And we'll lay her down; 

And we'll ask papa to mend her— 
Poor Jemima Brown! 


—Laura E. Richards 


THE LOST DOLL 


I once had a sweet little doll, dears, 

The prettiest doll in the world; 

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears, 
And her hair was so charmingly curled. 

But I lost my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played on the heath one day; 

And I cried for more than a week, dears, 
But I never could find where she lay. 

I found my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played on the heath one day; 

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, 

For her paint is all washed away, 

And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears, 
And her hair not the least bit curled; 

Yet for old sake’s sake, she is still, dears, 
The prettiest doll in the world. 

—Charles Kingsley 

ROSE MA BELLE 

Sometimes I wake in the deep, dark night, 

And the thunder roars outside, 

A spatter of rain puts out the stars, 

And I cover up close and hide. 

“You can’t get me —oh, you can’t get me , 
Though you beat on the window pane, 

But I wonder what—oh, I wonder what 
I’ve left outside in the rain!” 


[64] 


Oh, Rose Ma Belle was the loveliest doll! 

Her hair was as long as mine, 

Her lashes were gold as the jonquil buds, 

And her eyes had the starriest shine! 

She was dressed like a bride, though she hadn’t a groom, 
But that was a small affair; 

She’d a dress as white as a lily in bloom 
And a long white veil on her hair. 

And I took her to sit in the orchard grass 
For the birds and the bees to see, 

And I showed her the hole where the gooches live 
In the side of the old plum-tree. 

Then Daddy honked in the lane outside- 
(Oh, this is hard to tell!) 

And I laid her down—and I went to ride— 

My sweet little Rose Ma Belle! 

And oh—and oh—in the deep, dark night 
I woke and I heard the rain! 

Splash and patter and swish it fell 
On the roof and the window-pane. 

And I snuggled down in my warm white bed 
(For the rain just sang as it fell), 

Then, all of a sudden, I raised my head 
And I thought about Rose Ma Belle! 

Out in the dark and the pouring rain, 

Lonely and dressed so thin! 

And I ran and stood by the window-pane 
And howled till the folks came in. 


And Mother said to me: “Go and look 
In your own little wickery chair.” 

And I pattered quick to the playroom door— 

And Rose Ma Belle was there! 

And I hugged my mother for bringing her in, 

And I hugged my Rose Ma Belle, 

And I hugged my daddy and all the rest, 

And I laughed till my heart got well. 

But always now in the deep, dark night, 

When it beats on the window-pane, 

I cover up close and I wonder what 
Fve left outside in the rain! 

—Margaret Belle Houston 

AN UNFORTUNATE FAMILY 
Sophia's hair was just as soft as any silk that's spun; 

And as for complexions—well, I'm sure she had one 

Her disposition, too, was kind; she'd never frown or pout— 

But Bunch, our puppy, chewed her, and let all her sawdust out. 

Evadne I remember well, and also my surprise 
And joy when I discovered she had automatic eyes. 

She used to sleep as soundly as a mother could desire— 

But she only stared and rattled after falling in the fire. 

Louisa looked a perfect pet, and positively sweet, 

In pretty frilly baby clothes, with cap and shoes complete. 

She would have grown up tall and fair, I very often think— 
But Charlie played at clergyman, and christened her with in\. 

And now here's Arabella, who may some day learn to speak: 
For talking ought to follow if one cultivates a squeak. 

She'll probably be famous for her eloquence and wit— 

But accidents will happen, so we mustn't count on it. 

—Felix Leigh 


WOOING AND WEDDING 



«r 




BELINDA BLOND 


Belinda Blond was a beautiful doll, 

With rosy cheeks and a flaxen poll; 

Her lips were red, and her eyes were blue, 

But to say she was happy would not be true; 

For she pined for love of the great big Jack 
Who lived in the box so grim and black. 

She never had looked on the Jack his face, 

But she fancied him shining with beauty and grace; 
And all the day long she would murmur and pout, 
Because Jack-in-the-box would never come out. 
“Oh, beautiful, beautiful Jack-in-the-box! 

Undo your bolts and undo your locks! 

The cupboard is shut, and there’s no one about; 

Oh, Jack-in-the-box! jump out, jump out!” 

But alas, alas for Belinda Blond! 

And alas, alas for her dreamings fond! 

There soon was an end to all her doubt 
For Jack-in-the-box really did jump out! 

Out with a crash, and out with a spring, 

Half black and half scarlet, a horrible thing; 

Out with a yell and out with a shout. 

His great goggle-eyes glaring wildly about. 

“Alas! alas!” cried Belinda Blond; 

“Is this the end of my dreamings fond? 

Is this my love, and is this my dear, 

This hideous, glowering monster here? 

Alas! alas!” cried Belinda fair. 

She wrung her hands and she tore her hair, 

Till at length, as the dolls who were witnesses say, 
She fell on the ground and she fainted away. 


Moral 

Now all you dolls, both little and big, 

With china crown and curling wig, 

Before you give way to affection fond, 

Remember the fate of Belinda Blond; 

And unless you wish to get terrible knocks, 

Don’t set your heart on a Jack-in-the'box. 

—Laura E. Richards 








A DOLL'S WEDDING 


Says Ivanhoe to Mimi: 

“It's our wedding-day; 

And will you promise, dearest, 
Your husband to obey?" 

And this is Mimi's answer: 

“With all my heart, my dear; 
If you will never cause me 
To drop a single tear; 

“If you will ask me nothing 
But what I want to do 
I'll be a sweet, obedient, 
Delightful wife to you." 

Says Mr. Fenwick, giving 

His brown mustache a twist: 
“I shall command you, madam, 
To do whate'er I list!" 

Miss Mimi answers, frowning, 

His very soul to freeze: 

“Then, sir, I shall obey you 
Only just when I please!" 

Says Ivanhoe to Mimi: 

“Let us to this agree— 

I will not speak one word to you, 
If you'll not speak to me; 


[70] 


“Then we shall never quarrel, 

But through our dolly life 
I ll be a model husband, 

And you a model wife!” 

And now all men and women 
Who make them wedding-calls, 

Look on and almost envy 

The bliss of these two dolls. 

They seem so very smiling— 

So graceful, kind, and bright! 

And gaze upon each other 

Quite speechless with delight. 

Never one cross word saying, 

They stand up side by side, 

Patterns of good behavior 
To every groom and bride. 

Sweethearts, it is far better— 

This truth they plainly teach— 

The solid gold of silence, 

Than the small change of speech! 

—Lucy Larcorn 

AN EAVESDROPPER 

A dear little eavesdropper listened and smiled— 

(I believe there is mischief a-brewing!) 

For the gay, young cadet 
Left his new wagonette 

At the foot of the hill; and he seemed to forget 

That his high-stepping courser perchance might upset 
His wagon while he went a-wooing. 


A dear little eavesdropper listened and laughed— 

(My sakes! to think dolls are so silly!) 

Yes, she heard the boy say, 

“My sweet Mistress May, 

If you’ll marry me now, we will hasten away 
To a fandistant clime where’t is cooler by day 
And where the nights never are chillv!” 

A dear little eavesdropper listened and sighed— 

(Oh! what if their necks should be broken?) 

Then she peered round the tree, 

But all she could see 

Was two dolls, very stiff and as dumb as could be, 

And never a sign in the faintest degree 
Of so much as one word being spoken. 

—Anna Maria Pratt 


THE NAUGHTY DOLL 

My dolly is a dreadful care— 

Her name is Miss Amandy; 

I dress her up and curl her hair, 

And feed her taffy candy. 

Yet heedless of the pleading voice 
Of her devoted mother, 

She will not wed her mother’s choice, 
But says she’ll wed another. 

I’d have her wed the china vase— 
There is no Dresden rarer; 

You might go searching every place 
And never find a fairer. 


[72] 


He is a gentle pinkish youth— 

Of that there's no denying; 

Yet when I speak of him forsooth, 

Amanda falls to crying. 

She loves the drum—that's very plain— 

And scorns the vase so clever; 

And weeping, vows she will remain 
A spinster doll forever! 

The protestations of the drum 
I am convinced are hollow; 

When once distressing times should come, 

How soon would ruin follow! 

Yet all in vain the Dresden boy 
From yonder mantel woos her; 

A mania for that vulgar toy, 

The noisy drum, imbues her! 

In vain I wheel her to and fro, 

And reason with her mildly— 

Her waxen tears in torrents flow, 

Her sawdust heart beats wildly. 

I'm sure that when I'm big and tall, 

And wear long trailing dresses, 

I shan't encourage beaux at all 
Till Mamma acquiesces; 

Our choice will be a suitor then 
As pretty as this vase is— 

Oh, how we'll hate the noisy men 
With whiskers on their faces! 

—Eugene Field 

C 73 3 



THE MONEY JUG 

(A Rhyme of the DolhHouse) 

The earthen money-jug sat on the shelf, 

Fat with pennies and round and red; 

“You shall marry the little china-doll 

When you are full," the old rag-mother said. 
“Only a few more pennies," said he, 

“Will fill me as full as I can be." 

The poor little china doll below 
Sat in the dolhhouse, very sad, 

For she did not want to marry the jug, 

In spite of the pennies and dimes he had; 
And she would not look at the nursery shelf, 
Where he sat in his pride and puffed himself. 


[74] 



"Two more days and it's Christmas Day; 

I shall be quite full by then, I know,” 

Said the money-jug; but sadder still 
Was the little doll in the house below. 

The rag-mother nodded her wicked old head. 
"Then to-morrow the wedding shall be, 1 ' she said. 

And now there's a noise in the hall outside, 

And two little children come in the door; 

With eager steps they hurry by 

Where the doll-house stands on the nursery floor. 
They take the money-jug down from the shelf; 
"Now I'll be full," said he to himself. 



[75] 











Said the little boy to the little girl, 

“We will get our Christmas money out. 1 ' 

Crack, smash! they broke the money^jug, 

And all the pennies rolled about. 

The rag'mother nodded her wicked old head; 
“And that's the end of him," she said. 

—Katherine Pyle 


ON THE SHELF 
Upon the Nursery Mantel 
Sat little, fat Chin Lee; 

And the Grief upon his countenance 
Was something Sad to see. 



[76] 







For lo! the lovely Pitti-Sing 
Had turned her face away, 

Nor given him a Single Smile 
Throughout the Dreary Day. 

What had he done to Vex Her? 

He tried in Vain to think, 

Until his Eyes grew Dim and Pale 
His Cheek so Round and Pink. 

At last, as Darkness Gathered, 

He fell into a Doze, 

And when he Woke—Oh, joyous sight 
That on his Vision rose! 

The lovely Pitti-Sing had turned 
Her Face to Him again, 

And smiled upon Him as he gazed 
With all his Might and Main. 

“ ’Twas not my Fault,” she murmured 
So sweetly, “Dear, Chin-Lee, 

’Twas little Rosy turned my Head 
This morning, don’t you see? 

And now she’s turned it back, alas! 

We’re manufactured so! 

You’ll never Doubt me, Dear, again?” 
He meekly whispered, “No.” 


The shadows in the Nursery fell, 
The Candles glimmered Red, 

And little Rosy had her Tea 
And, nodding, went to Bed. 

And on the Nursery Mantle 
Sat little fat Chin-Lee 
And the smile upon his Countenance 
Was something good to see. 

Beside him lively Pitti-Sing 
Sat smiling as Himself, 

And all was Peace and Happiness 
Upon the Mantel Shelf. 

—M. J. 










SONGS AND LULLABIES 










CUDDLE DOWN, DOLLY 
They sent me to bed, dear, so dreadfully early, 

I hadn’t a moment to talk to my girlie; 

But while Nurse is getting her dinner, down-stairs, 
IT1 rock you a little and hear you your prayers. 

Cuddle down, dolly, cuddle down, dear! 

Here on my shoulder you’ve nothing to fear. 

That’s what Mama sings to me every night; 

Cuddle down, dolly dear, shut your eyes tight! 


Not comfor’ble, dolly? or why do you fidget? 

You’re hurting my shoulder, you troublesome midget! 
Perhaps it’s that hole that you told me about. 

Why, darling, your sawdust is trick-ker-ling out! 

We’ll call the good doctor in, right straight away; 
That can’t be neglected a single more day; 

I’ll wet my new hankchif and tie it round tight 
’Twill keep you from suffering pains in the night. 


I hope you’ve been good, little dolly, today, 

Not cross to your nursie, nor rude in your play; 
Nor dabbled your feet in those puddles of water 
The way you did yesterday, bad little daughter! 
Oh, dear! I’m so sleepy—can’t hold up my head: 
I’ll sing one more verse, then I’ll creep into bed. 


Cuddle down, dolly, here on my arm, 

Nothing shall frighten you, nothing shall harm. 
Cuddle down sweetly, my little pink rose, 
Good angels come now and guard thy repose. 


[80} 


—Kate Douglas Wiggin 


DOLL’S CRADLE SONG 

Sleep, Dolly, sleep, 

Softly repose, 

Sleep, Dolly, sleep. 

Your little eyelids close. 

While in school I’m sighing, 

You in bed are lying; 

And have all the day 
Time enough to play. 

Sleep, Dolly, sleep, 

Softly repose. 

Sleep, Dolly, sleep, 

Your little eyelids close. 

Hush, my pretty, go to sleep! 

While I sing you of the sheep, 

And the lambs that went to wander 
With the goose and giddy goody gander. 

Sleep, my Dolly, sleep. 

—From the German 

DOLLY’S LULLABY 

Sleep, dear, sleep, dear, folding eyelids waxen 
Over eyes like corn-flowers brightly blue; 

Rest here, rest here, little head so flaxen; 

Soft I’ll hush you, just as mothers do: 

Dolly’s good, she does not cry, 

When she hears her lullaby, 

Oh, quite easily she goes to sleep 
Yes, at any time of day 
I may choose for night, in play, 

Oh, quite easily she goes to sleep. 

[81] 


Sleep, dear, sleep, dear, round cheeks tinted purely, 
Red lips gathered in a rose-bud pout; 

Bye-bye, bye-bye, now she's dreaming surely; 

How I wonder what she dreams about! 

Oh! how very, very odd 
Must be Dolly's Land of Nod! 

Ah, what happens when she goes to sleep? 

I suppose she must forget, 

For she never told me yet. 

Pray, what happens when she goes to sleep? 

—Helen Gray Cone 


DOLL'S SLUMBER SONG 

Hushaby, my babies, now the day is closing, 

All the tired little birds are drowsing in the nest; 

Out upon the lake the lilies are reposing, 

And so must you, my little ones, upon your mamma's breast. 
S-l-e-e-p, sleep, sink, sink to sleep— 

Claribel and Muriel, Polly and Bo-Peep. 

Hushaby, my dearies, now the dew is falling, 

Over on the meadow evening shadows creep. 

On the edge of Slumberland hear your mamma calling, 

“Come my little family, it's time to go to sleep." 

S-l-e-e-p, sleep, sink, sink to sleep— 

Claribel and Muriel, Polly and Bo-Peep. 

—Ethelwyn Wetherald 


[82] 


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S-l-e-e-p, sleep, sin\, sin\ to sleep — 







DOLLY’S SLUMBER SONG 


The little stars come twinkling out; 

Sleep, my dolly, sleep! 

Their bright eyes peeping all about, 

Sleep, my dolly, sleep! 

They watch the little lambs at rest, 

They watch the baby birds that nest, 

Until they’re all asleep, 

Until they’re all asleep. 

The twinkling stars are candles bright. 

Sleep, my dolly, sleep! 

That shine thro’-out the quiet night. 

Sleep, my dolly, sleep! 

They watch all creatures lovingly, 

And they will watch o’er you and me, 

Until we’re fast asleep, 

Until we’re fast asleep. 

—Annie Willis McCullough 


MY COTTON DOLLY 

She is my brand new cotton dolly, 

I’ve named her little Nancy Polly, 

And tho’ she’ll never handsome be, 
She’s very, very dear to me. 

She has a face of colored silk, 

And two cloth braids as white as milk, 
And button eyes quite bright and clear. 
Pretty Nancy Polly dear. 



She is my brand new cotton dolly, 

I’ve named her little Nancy Polly, 

And tho’ she’ll never handsome be 
She’s very, very dear to me. 

Her gown is red and white and green, 
With pink and black dropped in between 
And rows of stripes run up and down, 
On little Nancy Polly’s gown, 


[85] 




Her shoes and stockings fit on tight, 

I cannot take them off at night, 

Or change her dress, poor cotton dolly, 

Her clothes just grew on Nancy Polly. 

Chorus 

She is my brand new Cotton dolly, 

Fve named her little Nancy Polly, 

And tho’ shell never handsome be, 

She’s very, very dear to me. 

—Mildred Travers Anderson 


[86] 


MISCELLANEOUS 










CHOOSING 


They're all of them so lovely 

It's very hard to choose. 

I like that dark-haired beauty, 

With scarlet coat and shoes. 

The golden-haired is sweeter, 

Her eyes are just sky-blue. 

That sailor boy is cunning; 

The Highland laddie, too. 

'Twould really be most puzzling 
To pick out only one. 

(You see I can't have any, 

But choosing is such fun!) 

—Rebecca Deming Moore 


THE CHRISTMAS DOLL 
There was once a doll on a Christmas tree, 

Who sighed to the angel that hung above, 
“Oh, how I wish they would keep for me 
A sweet little, neat little girl to love; 

“A dear little mother to curl my locks 

To rock me to sleep, and to wake me up, 

To dress me in cute little gowns and frocks, 

And feed me with milk from her silver cup; 


“A kind little mother, who’d never say 

A word that was angry, nor let me fall, 

Who’d always be ready to let me play 

With bright little friends who should come to call!” 

And, strange though the wonderful fact may be, 

That little wax doll’s little wish came true; 

They picked her right off the Christmas tree. 

And gave her, my dear little girl, to you! 

—Arthur Guiterman 

THE CONSCIENTIOUS CORREGGIO CAROTHERS 
Correggio Carothers was a man of much renown; 

The dolls he made and painted were the talk of all the town; 

In a room half shop, half study, he would gayly work away, 
Completing, by his diligence, one dosen dolls a day. 

If it chanced to be fine weather, every Monday he would go 
With a number to the toyman's, where he'd lay them in a row; 
And some would be so beautiful that one could scarce refrain 
From kissing them; while others would be very, very plain. 

“Correggio, Correggio," the toyman oft would cry, 

“Oh, why do you persist in making dolls no one will buy? 

In my second-story wareroom I have hundreds stored away; 

And if each had a pretty face, they'd not be there to-day!" 

“My work is conscientious, sir," he proudly would explain; 

“As dolls are mimic people, some of them must needs be plain. 
I cannot, I assure you, give good looks to every doll, 

Since beauty is a priceless gift that does not come to all!" 

—Malcolm Douglas 


[b 9 ] 


A DITTY OF DOLLS 


When Dicky gets the dollies out 

At hospital he plays 

And one and all they lie about, 

Damaged in various ways; 

In grievous clutch of grip or gout, 

When Doctor Dicky gets them out. 

When Dora gets the dollies out 
They always go to school, 

There is no time for play or pout 
Under her rigid rule; 

The dollies quake, I have no doubt, 

When despot Dora gets them out. 

When Donald gets the dollies out 
At church they all appear, 

In rows they sit, and hymns they shout 
And lengthy sermons hear; 

The day is due to look devout, 

When Deacon Donald gets them out. 

When Debby gets the dollies out 
It’s always holiday, 

Let Dicky dose, and Donald spout 
And Dora scold—hurray! 

Pills, pews and pens are put to rout 
When doting Debby gets them out. 

—Rose Mills Powers 


[9°] 


THE DOLLS" CHRISTMAS TREE 

I made a lovely Christmas tree 
Trimmed with a candle lighted, 

And every dolly in the house 
Was formally invited. 

A sunshade draped with all the gifts, 

And popcorn hung about it, 

Looked like a truly Christmas tree. 

Em sure no one could doubt it. 

The sailor and the Indian 

Were the only mendolks present. 

They danced with everyone in turn, 

And made things very pleasant. 

Belinda was the fairest there, 

With shiny golden tresses, 

A string of pearls, a silken sash, 

And daintiest of dresses. 

The baby doll was dressed in blue, 

In pink the little Jappy 

Who smiled at Bess with the broken leg, 
And seemed extremely happy. 

And kitty came all dressed in fur, 

Her usual apparel 

She took her place among the rest, 

And hummed a Christmas carol. 


The doll that has no legs and arms 
Within the trunk was sleeping; 

But when the other guests arrived, 

We plainly saw her peeping. 

Belinda gazed with all her eyes— 

Or one, for when I dressed her 
The other dropped straight out. Oh, dear! 

I know it has distressed her. 

“Now please come when your name is called,'” 

I said. “Have no loud talking.” 

I drew them up with smiles and a string 
For they're not spry at walking. 

With Kitty Fluff they shared their cakes; 

Bonbons they found too hearty, 

So I ate those to help them out, 

We had a lovely party! 

—Author Unknown 

THE DOLL’S CIRCUS 

I took my best doll to the circus one day, 

The very first circus she’d seen; and the way 
All the circus folks acted gave her such delight, 

That she made all my dollies play circus that night. 

I think—yes, I think—that the clock had struck “Two”, 

When, wondering, I watched all the pranks she went through; 
The rest of my dollies she set in a row, 

And taught them each trick that the circus-men know. 


[9U 



I watched all the pran\s she went through 











They hung on trapeses, and flew as on wings, 

They rode my tin horses, and jumped through the rings; 
And then the doll baby—oh, how could he dare! 

Tried to balance himself on a pole in the air! 

And just at that minute, Miss ladylike Flo— 

The doll that I took to the circus, you know— 

Began to turn handsprings and walk on a wire; 

While my Jap doll surprised me by swallowing fire! 

The darky doll carried Miss Flo on his head, 

Exactly like Sandow, the strong man, she said; 

My rubber doll bounced back and forth from the wall, 
And, to cap all the wonders, Flo danced on a ball! 

Their tricks were so pretty and funny and light, 

Fd gladly have watched them the whole of the night; 

Ten dolls made a pyramid—that was the best! 

With the littlest one, Tot, holding up all the rest! 

And when the whole ten waved a hand in fine style, 

With clever Miss Flo at the top of the pile— 

And all shouted “Hoop-la!”—just then, I declare, 

I saw the whole pyramid sway in the air! 

I jumped from my bed, and shrieked: “What shall I do!” 
And to think! It was morning! and bright daylight too! 
The dollies still lay all sprawled out on the floor. 

But—just as Fd left them, the evening before! 

-Will Philip Hooper 


[94} 


DOLL'S SONG 

Matilda Jane, you never look 
At any toy or picture book: 

I show you pretty things in vain— 

You must be blind, Matilda Jane. 

I ask you riddles, tell you tales, 

But all our conversation fails: 

You never answer me again— 

I fear you're dumb, Matilda Jane: 

Matilda darling, when I call, 

You never seem to hear at all; 

I shout with all my might and main— 

But you're so deaf, Matilda Jane! 

Matilda Jane, you needn't mind: 

For though you're deaf and dumb and blind, 
There's some one loves you, it is plain— 

And that is me , Matilda Jane! 

—Lewis Carroll 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS 

I travelled on the train one day; 

Across the way there sat 
A dainty little midget 
With a pretty, fluffy hat. 

Her cheeks were plump and rosy, 
And her eyes were very blue, 
And as for her behavior. 

It was good enough for two. 


In fact, you'll be surprised to hear, 

As I was, then, to see 
How far superior a child 
Can to her elders be. 

“The lady" who was with her 
In whining tones was heard— 

But I did not hear Miss Midget 
Speak a single fretful word. 

“The lady" wanted cookies; then 
She had to have a drink. 

She didn't give the passengers 
A minute's time to think. 

While little Rosy Cheeks just sat 
And smiled across at us, 

“The lady" squirmed and wriggled round, 
And made a constant fuss. 

So next time I go travelling, 

As happen soon I may, 

I hope that only one of them 
Will be abroad that day! 

And if a fairy asks me which, 

I'll tell the little elf, 

I much prefer Louise's doll — 

To Miss Louise herself! 

—Pauline Frances Camp 


W 



IN THE DOLL SHOP 

The dolls in boxes on the shelves, 

They whisper softly among themselves; 

While the dolls that stand on the counter low, 
Beribboned and fine from head to toe, 

Are praised and chosen and sent away 
For dear little girls each shopping day. 

And what do you think they say up there 
Where they lie in boxes, undressed and bare? 
“They're always speaking—Fm sure you've guessed— 
Of the good time coming when they'll be dressed 
In daintiest pink and blue and white, 

With buckled slippers and ribbons bright, 

And, stretching their arms to all who view. 

By some little mother be chosen, too. 

And so they whisper away, and tell 

Of the dear little girl who will love them well. 

And that’s how they comfort and cheer themselves, 
The dolls in boxes upon the shelves. 

—Rose Mills Powers 


A LITTLE SCHOOLMA’AM 

Melinda Jane, and Kate, and Nell 
It’s time you learned to read and spell. 
Come, now, and say your A, B, C. 
Hold up your heads, and look at me. 
For, if you never learn to read, 

What stupid dolls you’ll be indeed! 

All ready now: A, B, C— 

What is the matter? Oh, dear me! 



I cannot hear one word you say! 

Why, Katy dear, don’t turn away: 

Sit up again and listen—there! 

She’s fast asleep, I do declare! 

Well, never mind, where’s grandpa’s cane? 
Now look at me, Melinda Jane, 

You needn’t think that this is play; 

For I shall keep you here all day, 

And make you read before you go: 

I know what’s good for dollies—so! 

Now say, A, B—Look this way, Nell- 
You speak so low, I can’t just tell. 

Melinda Jane, why don’t you try? 

Oh, dear! I’m tired enough to cry! 

I think I’ll stop, and go to play, 

And try again some other day. 

—Author Unknown 


[98] 



A MORTIFYING MISTAKE 


I studied my tables over and over 
And backward and forward, too; 

But I couldn't remember six times nine, 

And I didn't know what to do, 

Till sister told me to play with mv doll, 

And not to bother my head. 

“If you call her 'Fifty-four' for a while, 

You'll learn it by heart," she said. 

So I took my favorite, Mary Ann 

(Though I thought 'twas a dreadful shame 
To give such a perfectly lovely child 
Such a perfectly horrid name), 

And I called her my dear little “Fifty-four" 

A hundred times, till I knew 
The answer of six times nine as well 
As the answer of two times two. 

Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, 

Who always acts so proud, 

Said “Six times nine is fifty-two," 

And I nearly laughed aloud! 

But I wished I hadn't when teacher said, 
“Now Dorothy, tell if you can." 

For I thought of my doll and—sakes alive! 

I answered, “Mary Ann!" 

—Anna Maria Pratt 


C99] 


MY DOLLY 

We went to a party, my dolly and I; 

The neighbors all smiled at us fluttering by, 

White ruffles, pink sashes, and little pink shoes— 
We were dressed just alike, not a ribbon to choose! 

My dolly was prettiest, though, and so clever— 
The little girls wondered and said, “Did you ever ?’ 1 
And, “Oh, what a dear! 1 ’ when I just let them see 
How charming and cunning the darling could be. 

For she did what I told her, as quick as you please; 
She sang like a bird, and she talked like a breeze; 
She danced, too—oh, yes! like a leaf in the air— 
There was no doll, I tell you, like my dolly there! 

And you needn't look sniffety—needn't say, “Pooh! 
That sort of a fairy-tale doesn't fool you\ 

For you're certainly sure that no doll ever did. 
Ever could , sing and dance just because it was bid." 

She did though! Now listen, and you shall confess 
'Tis the truth I am telling, no more and no less. 
The doll at the party, so clever and jolly, 

Was my own little, dear little, live sister—Polly! 

—Mary Bradley 



[ 100 ] 


A NIGHTMARE 

There was once a little girlie, 

And she had an awful dream; 

It really was so awful, 

That she woke up with a scream! 

She dreamed that all her dollies came 
And climbed upon the bed— 

There must have been a score or more 
In groups upon the spread. 

There was one-eyed “Arabella”, 

And headless “Lucy Ann 1 ", 

And a most distressing cripple 
Whose name was “Peter Pan.” 

There was “Maud”, and proud “Belinda 1 
There was “Evalina Grace”; 

Each with an arm or leg off, 

And a scratched and battered face. 

They held a consultation 

While she shivered there in bed; 

Then up spake Arabella, 

And this is what she said: 

“You have been a cruel mother! 

I say it to your shame! 

We none of us can love you, 

And you have been to blame. 


You've pulled our arms and legs off! 

You've scalped us every one! 

And you've often scratched our faces, 

And thought that it was fun. 

Belinda's full of needles! 

You've stuck pins in Emmy Lou! 

And now we have decided 
To do the same to you!" 

It was then the little girlie 
Awakened with a scream; 

And oh, but she was thankful 
To find it was a dream! 

—Anna May Cooper 

ONLY A DOLL 

Polly, my dolly! why don't you grow? 

Are you a dwarf, my Polly? 

I'm taller and taller every day; 

How high the grass is! do you see that? 

The flowers are growing like weeds, they say; 
The kitten is growing into a cat! 

Why don't you grow, my dolly? 

Here is a mark upon the wall. 

Look for yourself, my Polly! 

I made it a year ago, I think. 

I've measured you very often, dear, 

But though you've plenty to eat and drink, 
You haven't grown a bit for a year. 

Why don't you grow, my dolly? 


Are you never going to try to talk? 

You’re such a silent Polly! 

Are you never going to say a word? 

It isn’t hard; and oh! don’t you see 
The parrot is only a little bird, 

But he can chatter so easily. 

You’re quite a dunce, my dollv! 

Let’s go and play by the baby-house: 

You are my dearest Polly! 

There are other things that do not grow; 

Kittens can’t talk, and why should you? 

You are the prettiest doll I know; 

You are a darling—that is true! 

Just as you are, my dolly! 

—Sarah O. Jewett 


PERHAPS THEY ARE 

I often leave my dollies out 
All night in pleasant weather; 

But they don’t mind—they love to rest 
Beneath the trees together. 

And once to where my dollies were 
A band of fairies flew 

And danced with them, because they thought 
My dolls were fairies, too! 

—Arthur Guiterman 


THE SISTERS 


These sisters, Jane and Marguerite, 

Who are so friendly and sweet, 

Have just one doll for two; 

One day shes Janie's child, they play. 

The next is Marguerite's day— 

A pleasant way to do. 

When Jane's turn comes to have the treat, 
She names the dolly Marguerite, 

To please her sister dear; 

And Marguerite says very plain, 

“My dolly's pretty name is Jane," 

When she is mother here. 

—Stella George Stern 

THE TWIN'S COMPLAINT 

My sister's Louisa Maria, 

And I am Maria Louise, 

And you couldn't tell one from the other— 
We're as like as a couple of peas! 

Our eyes are the same, and our dimples 
And so are our noses and hair; 

Exactly alike are our dresses 

And everything else that we wear. 

I’m dreadfully fond of Louisa, 

And its nice for a doll to be twins 
If your girhmother knows you from sister— 
But there's where the trouble begins! 



Why, only just yesterday morning 
Louisa was naughty and cried, 

And mother said she must be punished, 

And I should go out for a ride; 

But just as the carriage was ready 
She bundled me into my bed, 

And read me a lecture on manners, 

And carried Louisa instead! 

[105] 



It was I had the blister the doctor 
Prescribed when Louisa was ill, 

And they smothered me nearly, in blankets 
To keep her from having a chill! 

I sha'n't know myself , I am certain 
If things keep on longer this way, 

And my temper is getting quite ruined— 

(I scolded Louisa to-day.) 


There's only one plan I can think of 
To help it, and so I suppose 
Though court-plaster's not at all pretty 
I'd best put a patch on my nose. 


It's hard, but I guess I sha'n't mind it 
If only my dear mother sees 
Which twin is Louisa Maria, 

And which is Maria Louise! 

—Ellen Manly 



[ 106] 


FOREIGN COUSINS 



“COMPRENEZWOUS?'' 

A quaint Dutch doll and a doll from France 
One birthday morning met by chance; 

And the Juffrouw said to Mademoiselle 
In politest Dutch, “I hope you're well." 

But the doll from Paris shook her head, 

And in her very best French she said: 

“I regret, indeed, that I cannot tell 

What your meaning is—but I hope you're well." 

So the doll with the wooden countenance 
And the waxen lady that came from France 
In courteous silence together lay 
In the shadowy dawn of that festal day. 

But by and by, when the room grew light, 

A little maid in a nightgown white 
Peeped in, as her loving parents planned, 

With the sparkling eyes of Yankeedand. 

And never a single word said she, 

And she smiled as brightly as could be; 

And though those dolls were of wax and wood, 

It really seemed that they understood. 

For you may journey many a mile, 

But, wherever you go, a smile's a smile! 

And its meaning is easy to understand 
In Holland, in France, or in Yankeedand. 

—Jennie Betts Hartswic\ 







But, wherever you go, a smile s a smile l 

























THE FEAST OF THE DOLL 


In flow’ry Japan, the home of the fan, 

The land of the parasol, 

Each month has its feast, from greatest to least, 
And March is the Feast of the Dolhdolhdoll, 
And March is the Feast of the Doll. 

The wee slippered maid in gown of brocade 
And newest and best folderol, 

The little brown lad in embroidery clad, 

All troop to the Feast of the Dolhdolhdoll, 

All troop to the Feast of the Doll. 

How pleasant't would be, ’neath an almond tree, 

In sunshine and perfume to loll, 

Forget our own spring, with its wind and its sting, 
And sing to the praise of the Dolhdolhdoll, 

And sing to the praise of the Doll! 

Come, sweet Tippytoes, as pink as a rose, 

And I will get Betty and Moll; 

Let us follow the plan of the folk in Japan, 

And dance for your Feast, little Dolhdolhdoll 
And dance for your Feast, little Doll. 



—Nora Archibald Smith 


[ no] 



THE JAPANESE DOLL 
She does not know our language; she is a foreigner; 

So all the other dolls and toys they cannot talk with her. 

She’s quite unlike my French doll—Matilda—and her dress 
Is different from Matilda’s; her ways are too—and yes, 

Her eyes are different, too—not blue—they’re pointed and they’re 
black. 

They don’t close as Matilda’s do. She lies there on her back 
For hours and hours, and never moves, nor speaks, nor even winks. 
She cannot tell me, but I b’lieve she lies and thinks and thinks 
About her home in old Japan; about the children there 
Who look like her, have eyes like hers, and just such straight 
black hair. 

Maybe she thinks of playmates and companions far away, 

How low and sweet their voices are, how gentle all their play. 
I think she sees the cherry trees, a-blooming on the air, 

And the purple sweet wistaria a'hanging everywhere. 

Across the shallow rivers where the little bridges run, 

I think she sees the lotus and the iris in the sun. 

Quite often when Matilda takes her nap, then she and I 
We set out all the tea things, and we have tea quietly. 

She always looks so pleased, and seems to like it so, and then 
If I insist she’ll always let me fill her cup again. 

When she’s very quiet, sometimes, I take her little hands 
And I just say “Sayonara”; and I think she understands. 

That is the word in Japanese for “Good'by” but you see 
It also means “I’m sorry”—or it means “Since it must be!” 

I only once was homesick—for just one day, you know 
But I remember very well how bad it was! And so 
I’m very sweet and patient, and I let her sleep at night 
By the little brass pagoda, and the lantern and the kite. 

—Laura Spencer Porter 


[in] 



A MISUNDERSTANDING 


The little doll from China and the little China doll 
Sat looking at each other in surprise; 

“That you were made in China,” said the first, “I can’t believe 
For you see you have such funny round blue eyes.” 

“But I am made of china,” said the haughty little blond; 

“I don’t know why my word you choose to doubt; 

And as for eyes, if mine were slanted watermelon seeds 
I really think I’d rather do without.” 

The little doll from China and the little China doll 
Sat looking at each other in despair. 

“Why, all the dolls in China are brunettes like me,” said one. 

“Oh, no; a China doll is always fair!” 

“But all the dolls in China have black hair that’s smooth and straight!” 

“You’re wrong—a China dolly’s hair is curled.” 

And both were right, yet both were wrong; because you see there are 
So many kinds of China in the world! 

[ 112] 


—Eunice Ward 




DOLLS-IN-LAW 



BING'O 

I have a funny, little monk, 

And Bing'O is his name. 

He's not a bit like other toys, 

Although he's made the same. 

He has a squizxly little face 
That sort of winks at me. 

We play together all day long 
As happy as can be. 

When night time comes, and shadows fall, 
And into bed I creep, 

We always frolic for a while 
Before I go to sleep. 

And when my mother kisses me, 

And then turns out the light, 

I reach for Bing-O in the dark 
And hug him very tight. 

And when we go a-traveling 
My mother dear says, “No," 

When she sees my other toys 
All lined up in a row. 

Yet when I pick my Bing-O up 
And hug him to me, so, 

She laughs and says, “Of course, my dear, 
Your Bing'O Boy must go." 

The reason is, the other toys 
Are only just pretend, 

While Bing'O is quite different, 

Because he is my friend. 


[ 114] 


—Alice Higgins 


ENVY 


I have a yellow jumping-jack 

And Billy has his brother; 

My jumping-jack he kicks one leg 
Before he kicks the other. 

But Billy’s yellow jumping-jack 
I think is better fun, 

Because he kicks the other leg 
Before he kicks the one! 

—Arthur Guiterman 


THE GINGERBREAD MAN 

Down in the kitchen 
Our cook, Anne, 

Made me a wonderful 
Cookie man. 

He was so fat 
And smelt of spice. 

And sugar and raisins, and 
All that’s nice. 

His eyes were raisins 
And his nose; 

His coat was buttoned by 
Raisin rows. 

I hated to do him 
Any harm; 

I nibbled his foot and 
Then his arm. 


I ate both his legs 
And his head; 

I just love the taste of 
Gingerbread. 

And very soon you 
Couldn’t see 
A bit of cookies; just 
Only me. 

I wonder now if 
I am he, 

Or whether that cookie 
Man is me? 

—Alice Higgins 

THE GOLLIWUMPAS 

One day when it was rainy, 

And I was lonesome, too, 

My Nursie said, c Tm going to make 
A different toy for you.” 

She took an old silk stocking, 

Some cotton and some thread, 

And she made a Golliwumpas, 

With a funny sort of head. 

I stood and watched her do it, 
Surprised as I could be 
At the lovely Golliwumpas 
My Nursie made for me 


C n6] 


—Alice Higgins 


HAPPY JACK 


Happy Jack’s a restless soul. 

In the garden on a pole 
All the summertime he stands 
With his paddles in his hands. 

When the wind comes on to blow, 

How he makes his paddles go! 

Happy Jack is made of wood. 

He’s a sailor, kind and good; 

And he doesn’t mind the rain, 

For the sun will shine again. 

I am sure he’s good, you see, 

By the way he smiles at me. 

Hardly ever standing still, 

Always looking here and there, 

Paddling, paddling with a will; 

Never getting anywhere, 

Somewhere he must want to go, 

But just where he doesn’t know. 

I’m very glad he doesn’t. I must say 

If ever he should go away 

Our garden won’t be half so gay. 

—Ralph Bergengren 



IOWA CORN FOLK 

In the autumn’s early twilight 
When it’s most too dark to see, 

I can hear the Com Folk talking 
Just as plain as plain can be. 

I can hear the swish and rustle 
As they hurry to and fro 
In their toil and in their frolic 

When the lantern stars hang low. 

I can hear the children playing 
On the pumpkin pile a-top 
And the Red Corn Mammy calling, 
“Suppah’s ready—Now you stop!” 

Come for one brief hour of fancy 
Through the Iowa fields with me 
And you’ll hear the Corn Folk talking 
Just as plain as plain can be. 

—Bertha M. H. Shambaugh 


CiiB] 





THE LAMENT OF THE POPPY DOLL 
I’m only a poppy dolly, 

And alas! I’ve had my day, 

For the little girl that made me 
Has gone away to play! 

She went into the garden 
And chose me, a poppy red. 

Eyes, nose, and mouth she pricked 
Right in my poppy head. 

She folded back my petals 
With a sash of grass, bright green. 

With twigs she made my arms 
The straightest ever seen. 

A little bell-like flower 
Made me a pretty hat. 

A nasturtium leaf my sunshade, 

Would you have thought of that? 

And now that she has left me, 

I’m sure that I won’t last. 

If you should see her anywhere 
Tell her I’m fading fast. 

—Rebecca Deming Moore 

[ 119] 



A LITTLE GIRL'S DOLLS 
My dollies are many. 

There's curly haired Jennie 
And Topsy so black, 

And white-haired old Jack. 
There's Robbie the soldier 
Than whom none's bolder; 
There's Stick-of-Wood Polly 
And the Japanese dolly. 

But the latest and best 
In silken robes dressed, 

With vest of pearls bright, 
All set in rows white, 

Is Dolly Sweet-Corn, 

Who this summer was bom 
On a tasselled com-stalk 
Near the old garden walk, 

In a field of bright green 
With a changeable sheen. 

— L. I. Bartlett 


PENNY PAROO 

Penny Paroo was a funny old Critter, 

She doubled right up, every time that you hit ’er. 
She loved to be hit, and she loved to be whacked. 
(She was somewhat unusual, that is a fact!) 

You could throw her about, or pinch her a while 
But never could lessen her permanent smile. 

You could scold her or kiss her, or brutally club ’er. 
She’d love it, because—she was all made of rubber. 

—Alicia Aspinwall 


PETUNIA DOLLS 


When lilac time was past and all the chestnut flowers were dead, 
Each day I walked with sister round the big petunia bed 
To watch how fast the thin green plants were spreading leaves about, 
And how the neatly folded buds were slowly coming out. 

More, more and more they came each day, with colors dark and light 

Sometimes with blossoms white and red, and sometimes blue and white, 

Till all the bed was full of flowers, then she and I would go 

To where the border bushes grew, with berries white as snow 

To get the bodies for our dolls—the berries at the end 

Of each small twig made feet for them—we had to “make pretend” 

About their arms and faces—but the head we used to call 

That bit of stock that just stuck out when we had dressed the doll 

In frilly frocks that we picked out from the petunia bed. 

We made three dresses for each doll, and sister chose dark red. 

I liked the white ones better, and the pale, pale amethyst. 

We always tried to choose them where they would not soon be missed. 
When we had made them hats to fit, of brightly colored phlox 
We'd dance our dollies up and down the high nasturtiumed rocks. 
Wide morning glory leaves made trunks, with wiry grass for straps, 

To pack their extra dresses in, their coats and evening wraps. 

Their dresses stayed much fresher when we kept them in the shade, 
And so the big geranium star our nicest doll house made. 

To them the stalks were giant trees, and on a windy day 
They lay so cozy there beneath they couldn't blow away. 

—Eva Macfarlane 


[ 121 ] 



THE SEWING DOLL 

There was a little milkmaid, and 
Her pails were spools of thread; 

A thimble'holder as a hat 
She wore upon her head. 

And there were pins of black and white 
Around the brim stuck in, 

And to her any one could go 
To get a safety pin. 

Her apron white and dainty was 
A little needle-book; 

The rod her milk-paihspools were on 
Was just a crochet'hook. 


[ 122] 
















And people called this pretty maid 
“Our useful little Poll”; 

She was a help to every one, 

This little “Sewing Doll.” 

—Amelia De Wolffers 


THE TOPSY TURVY DOLL 
Topsy Turvy came to me 
On our last year’s Christmas tree. 

She is just the queerest doll, 

Much the strangest of them all. 

Now you see her, cheeks of red, 

Muslin cap upon her head, 

Bright, blue eyes and golden hair, 

Never face more sweet and fair. 

Presto! change! She’s black as night, 
Woolly hair all curling tight, 

Coal black eyes, thick lips of red, 

Bright bandanna on her head. 

She’s not two, as you’d suppose, 

When Topsy comes, Miss Turvy goes. 
Perhaps it’s as it is with me. 

Sometimes another child there’ll be, 

And mother says, “Where is my Flo? 

I wish that naughty girl would go.” 

—Rebecca Deming Moore 


[ 123] 


Page 


INDEX 

All the Bells Are Ringing —Christina G. Rossetti . 24 

Anderson, Mildred Travers —My Cotton Dolly. 84 

Aspinwall, Alicia —Penny Paroo. 120 

At Bedtime —Harriet Sutherland . 24 

Aten, Clara H .—The Complaint of the Modern Doll. 60 

Barrows, Marjorie —The Long Ago Doll. 18 

Bartlett, L. I .—A Little Girl’s Dolls.120 

Belinda Blond —Laura E. Richards . 68 

Bennett, John —Week-days in Dolly’s House. 48 

Bergengren, Ralph —Happy Jack.117 

Best Loved of All, The —Katherine Pyle . 52 

Bing-O —Alice Higgins .114 

Bradley, Mary —My Dolly.100 

Camp, Pauline Frances —Fellow TraveHers. 95 

Carroll, Lewis —Doll’s Song. 95 

Choosing —Rebecca Deming Moore . 88 

Christening Dolly— E. C. and L. J. Roo\ . 28 

Christmas Dilemma, A —Nellie M. Sinnell . 29 

Christmas Doll, The —Arthur Guiterman . 88 

Clar\, Miriam S .—The Dolls. 33 

Complaint of a Modern Doll, The —Clara H. Aten . 60 

“Comprenez-Vous ?”—Jennie Betts Hartswic\ .108 

Cone, Helen Gray —Dolly’s Lullaby. 81 

Conscientious Correggio Carothers —Malcolm Douglas . 89 

Cooper, Anna May —A Nightmare.101 

Cooper, George —Doll-Baby Show. 32 

Cravens, Junius L .—The Rag Doll. 56 

Cuddle Down, Dolly —Kate Douglas Wiggin . 80 

Dayre, Sidney —Taking Dolly’s Photograph. 47 

De Wolffers, Amelia —The Sewing Doll.122 

Dead Doll, The —Margaret Vandegrift . 61 

Dearest Dolls, The —Hannah G. Fernald . 53 

Devoted Mother, A —Ethelwyn Wetherald . 30 

Dill, Mary —The Kidnaper. 25 

Discipline— M. Von Seydewitz . 31 

Ditty of Dolls, A— Rose Mills Powers . 90 

[124] 






































Dodge, M. M .—Dressing Mary Ann. 41 

Doll-Baby Show, The —George Cooper . 32 

Doll Rosy’s Bath —Author Unknown..* . 60 

Doll’s Song —Lewis Carroll . 95 

Dolls, The —Miriam S. Clar\ . 33 

Dolls’ Christmas Tree, The —Author Un\nown . 91 

Doll’s Circus, The— Will Philip Hooper .. 92 

Doll’s Cradle Song, A—From the German. 81 

Dolls’ Dinner, The —Ellen Manly . 33 

Doll’s Funeral, The —Will Allen Dromgoole . 37 

Doll’s Slumber Song —Ethelwyn Wetherald . 82 

Doll’s Wedding, A —Lucy Larcom . 70 

Dolly Going to Sleep —Author Unknown .. 21 

Dolly House, The —Margaret Widdemer . 38 

Dolly Takes Tea —Albert Bigelow Paine . 39 

Dolly’s Lullaby —Helen Gray Cone . 81 

Dolly’s Slumber Song —Annie Willis McCullough . 84 

Douglas, Malcolm —Conscientious Correggio Carothers. 89 

Dressing Mary Ann— M. M. Dodge . 41 

Dromgoole, Will Allen —The Doll’s Funeral. 37 

Eavesdropper, An —Anna Maria Pratt . 71 

Envy —Arthur Guiterman .115 

Fairing, The —Nancy Sproat . 18 

Favorite Doll, The— J. R. Grey .25 

Fernald, Hannah G .—The Dearest Dolls. 53 

Feast of the Dolls —Nora Archibald Smith .no 

Fellow Travellers —Pauline Frances Camp . 95 

Field, Eugene —Naughty Doll. 7 2 

Field, Rachel —A Valentine for Old Dolls. 13 

Francis, Emma S .—The Wrong Doctor. 5 ° 

Gingerbread Man, The —Alice Higgins .115 

Golliwumpas —Alice Higgins . n6 

Greenaway, Kate —Mammas and Babies. 44 

Grey, J. R .—The Favorite Doll. 2 5 

Guiterman, Arthur —The Christmas Doll. 88 

Envy . n 5 

Perhaps They Are. I0 3 

Happy Jack —Ralph Bergengren . XI 7 

Hartswic\, Jennie Betts—' Comprenez-Vous?”.108 

Higgins, Alice —Bing-O . IX 4 

The Gingerbread Man . JI 5 

The Golliwumpas . 

[ 125 ] 












































Hooper, Will Philip —The Doll’s Circus. 92 

Houston, Margaret Belle —Rose Ma Belle. 64 

In the Doll Shop —Rose Mills Powers . 97 

Iowa Corn Folk —Bertha M. H. Shambaugh .118 

Japanese Doll, The —Laura Spencer Porter .m 

Jemima —Harriet Clar\ McLear . 15 

Jemima Brown —Laura E. Richards . 62 

fewett, Sarah O .—Only a Doll.102 

Kidnaper, The —Mary Dill . 25 

Kingsley, Charles —The Lost Doll. 64 

Kobbe, M. O .—Polly and Her Dollies. 26 

Lament of the Poppy Doll, The —Rebecca Deming Moore .119 

Larcom, Lucy —A Doll’s Wedding. 70 

Leigh, Felix —An Unfortunate Family. 66 

Little Girl’s Dolls, A— L. /. Bartlett .120 

Little Housewife, The —Alice C. D. Riley . 42 

Little Schoolma’am, A —Author Unknown . 97 

Little Seamstress, A —Mary E. Wil\ins . 44 

Long Ago Doll, The —Marjorie Barrows . 18 

Lost Doll, The —Charles Kingsley . 64 

Lucy and Dicky —Author Unknown . 19 

M. /.—On the Shelf. 76 

McCullough, Annie Willis —Dolly’s Slumber Song. 84 

Macfarlane, Eva —Petunia Dolls.121 

Mac\ay, Isabel Ecclestone —Mehitable Ann. 55 

McLear, Harriet Clar \—Jemima. 15 

Madison, Anne —A Mother’s Dilemma. 45 

Mammas and Babies —Kate Greenaway . 44 

Manly, Ellen —The Dolls’ Dinner. 33 

The Twin’s Complaint.104 

Mary Jane —Margaret Vandegrift . 54 

Mehitable Ann —Isabel Ecclestone Mac\ay . 55 

Misunderstanding, A —Eunice Ward .112 

Money-Jug, The —Katherine Pyle . 74 

Moore, Rebecca Deming —Choosing. 88 

The Lament of the Poppy Doll.119 

Sing a Song of Dollies. 26 

The Topsy Turvy Doll. j 2 3 

Mortifying Mistake, A —Anna Maria Pratt . gg 

Mother’s Dilemma, A —Anne Madison . 45 

My Cotton Dolly —Mildred Travers Anderson . 84 

My Doll —Author Un\nown . 20 

[126] 












































My Dolly —Mary Bradley . I00 

Naughty Doll, The —Eugene Field . 72 

New Doll, The —Author Unknown . 20 

Nightmare, A—Anna May Cooper .101 

Nursery Rhyme, A —Author Unknown . 22 

On the Shelf— M. J . 75 

Only a Doll —Sarah O. Jewett . I0 2 

Owner Away, The —Author Unknown . 26 

Paine, Albert Bigelow —Dolly Takes Tea. 39 

Penny Paroo —Alicia Aspinwall .120 

Perhaps They Are —Arthur Guiterman .103 

Petunia Dolls —Eva Macfarlane .121 

Piatt, Eleanor —Rebecca . 46 

Polly and Her Dollies—M. O. Kobbe . 26 

Porter, Laura Spencer —The Japanese Doll.m 

Powers, Rose Mills—A Ditty of Dolls. 90 

In the Doll Shop. 97 

Tea-Set Blue . 47 

Pratt, Anna Maria —An Eavesdropper. 71 

A Mortifying Mistake. 99 

Pyle, Katherine —Best Loved of All. 52 

The Money-Jug . 74 

Rag Doll, The —Junius L. Cravens . 56 

Rebecca —Eleanor Piatt . 46 

Richards, Laura E .—Belinda Blond. 68 

Jemima Brown . 62 

Riley, Alice C. D .—The Little Housewife. 42 

Roo\, E. C. and L. J .—Christening Dolly. 28 

Rose Ma Belle —Margaret Belle Houston . 64 

Rossetti, Christina G .—All the Bells Are Ringing. 24 

Rubber Doll, The —Caroline Tic\nor . 57 

Saturday Night —Author Unknown . 21 

Sewing Doll, The —Amelia De Wolffers .122 

Shambaugh, Bertha M. H .—Iowa Corn Folk.118 

Sing a Song of Dollies —Rebecca Deming Moore . 26 

Sinnell, Nellie M .—A Christmas Dilemma. 29 

Sisters, The —Stella George Stern .104 

Smith, Nora Archibald —Feast of the Dolls.no 

Sproat, Nancy —The Fairing. 18 

Stern, Stella George —The Sisters.104 

Sutherland, Harriet —At Bedtime. 24 

When the Guests Are Gone. 58 

C127] 












































Taking Dolly’s Photograph —Sidney Dayre . 47 

Taylor, fane —The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll. 13 

Tea-Set Blue —Rose Mills Powers . 47 

Tic\nor, Caroline —The Rubber Doll. 57 

Topsy Turvy Doll, The —Rebecca Deming Moore .123 

Torn Doll, The —Author Unknown . 22 

Twin’s Complaint, The —Ellen Manly .104 

Unfortunate Family, An —Felix Leigh . 66 

Valentine for Old Dolls, A —Rachel Field . 13 

Vandegrift, Margaret —Dead Doll. 61 

Mary Jane . 54 

Von Seydewitz, M .—Discipline. 31 

Ward, Eunice —A Misunderstanding.112 

Week Days in Dolly’s House —John Bennett . 48 

Wetherald, Ethelwyn —A Devoted Mother. 30 

Doll’s Slumber Song. 82 

When the Guests Are Gone —Harriet Sutherland . 58 

Widdemer, Margaret —The Dolly House. 38 

Wiggin, Kate Douglas —Cuddle Down, Dolly. 80 

Wil\ins, Mary E .—A Little Seamstress. 44 

Wireman, Eugenie —The Wooden Doll. 58 

Wooden Doll, The —Eugenie Wireman . 58 

Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll, The —fane Taylor . 13 

Wrong Doctor, The —Emma S. Francis . 50 



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